Travel Tales and Photos

Life Lessons Learned In Second Grade

2012-02-16T14:24:00.000-08:00

Hello again readers. How many of you can remember back to the 2nd grade of school. You would have been 7 or 8 years old. Probably not many of you can recall many details......UNLESS you had a particularly memorable experience!

Life Lessons Learned in Second Grade

I didn’t mind so much having to walk the mile and a half to my new school. Later I would think back about why I could not have caught the school bus. Maybe they did not have school buses then? I was seven years old, and we lived in a small house in the San Francisco Bay Area. At least we didn’t have cold and snowy winters like my parents My sister and I had heard told story many times about their own cold winters. “We used to dress up in heavy coats and boots, and walk through blizzards. Our Mom and Dad used to heat smooth rocks from the nearby creek, and put them in our pockets so we could keep our hands from freezing!” I was told that I had it easy here in sunny California.

The only snow I had ever seen was when we drove up to the hills after the newspaper announced that there would maybe be two inches of the white stuff. It would last only a few hours, so local families bundled up their kids and drove the forty five minutes so everyone could play in this rarest of freak weather. I remember my thoughts about my Mom and Dad growing up in a place where this cold and wet weather lasted for months. I didn’t think that hot rocks in my pocket would have made it any easier. I can remember my Dad talking to the parents of my friend that went with us to see the snow. "We moved to California so we could enjoy the snow only when we wanted to."

I was getting familiar with my walking route to school. Some of the mothers would say "Hi" to me as they collected up the milk bottlers on their front porch. My biggest fear was the two huge dogs that seemed to lay behind their yard gate and watch my approach. The Mom would always say "They won't hurt you." I told my parents about them, but they just said “Don’t pay any attention to them, they won’t hurt you. We know the family, and they tell us the dogs are friendly.” Hearing the dogs growl, and seeing their large teeth as they snarled at me, told me they were not so friendly. I walked on the opposite side of the street, but this did not help reduce the terror I experienced. There was no other route to school, unless I climbed fences and walked through a cow pasture. This would take twice as long, and I did not think Mom and Dad would approve. I would also have to leave much earlier. That plan would never fly. I always tried not to make eye contact with these beasts, and this tactic did seem to cause them to bark less. Sometimes I would run as fast as I could past the 'dog house.' I was a fast runner, but this only seemed to get the dogs more excited.

The new school was OK, but it was all fenced in. The playground was all black asphalt. There was no grass to run around on, and not a single tree to climb. We did have one magnificent playground piece of play equipment…..THE RINGS….. Ten steel rings that hung from the top of the big triangle-shaped frame. They were lined up in a straight row. The challenge to those of us, who dared climb up on the raised platform, was to grab the first ring, back up, and then swing to the next one. You had to grab the second ring while still holding on to the first. Then you had to begin pumping to get your body swinging. When you were swinging high enough, you timed your release of the first ring. You then began swinging toward the third ring. If you could grab the third ring, while still holding the second, then the whole process was repeated. When you could make it to the tenth and final steel ring, you had achieved what only a few of us had conquered. I was the newest member of a group that was dubbed the “Ring Kings.” I was Tom, the Ring Leader. I could do all ten rings faster than any other kid in school.

Recess was my favorite time at school. Beside the ring swings, we played kick ball. This game was a lot like baseball in that after kicking the ball, the kicker would run to first base. The next kicker would try to advance the runner around the bases. We would always quickly choose up teams at the start of recess. I was a fast runner, and since I was the Ring King, I usually was picked early for a team. We could substitute ourselves during the game. “Dale, I shouted, come on in and take my place.” My other team mates always looked at me and frowned. Dale was never picked. He was fat, and just could not run. What team captain would want him on their team? His eyes lit up, and he stuttered a lot, but said “Thhhhaaanks a lot.” Dale never played very long, as the bell would always ring telling us it was time to go back to class. I guess all parents ask their kids the same thing when we get home from school. "How was school today?" When I told my parents about Dale, they scolded me and reminded me that it was mean to only put him in the game at the very end. I had to promise I would become a friend to Dale. I was glad I wasn’t Dale though.

Being nice to Dale did cause a small problem. He seemed to want to hang with me at recess, lunch time, and other group activities. I felt lucky he did not sit by me in class. There was a new girl, Diane that was always coming around to talk to me. I really liked her. She always stood by the ring swings, and when I completed the ten-ring swing, she always jumped up and down clapping her hands. I never had a girl friend, and wondered if Diane could be classified as such. When Dale was hanging around, Diane would keep clear. I thought Dale would feel bad if I just left him alone, so I tried hard to be his friend. There was another good thing for having Dale as a friend. He was big and tough. I thought that no one could ever get up if dale sat on them. If he noticed anyone giving me a hard time, he would walk up with his hands on his hips. His glare was enough to discourage anyone from giving me any trouble.

I had one classmate that no one really liked. Gordon was always teasing the girls, and trying to play tricks on classmates. Gordon was clumsy, and was a little jealous of my performance on the rings. Sometimes he threw rocks at me when no one was looking. He called me “Pretty Boy.” I was a lot smaller than Gordon, and tried to just ignore him.....wasted advice from my parents. Dale asked me several times if I wanted him to kick Gordon’s butt. I just thought this would one, get Dale in big trouble, and two, make Gordon worse.

Mrs. Cerragino (pronounced Chair-a-geeno) was our teacher. She was huge. She and Dale were the fattest people at my school. My Dad told me that she was Italian, whatever that meant. If you were late in getting into your desk seat when the second bell sounded, you would be given one warning. If it happened a second time, Mrs. Cerragino made us do extra work. We had to sit in a corner desk and write out “Being late is not excusable,” one hundred times. We could do this penalty at home, but who wanted their parents to know their kid was being punished. It was during one of these writing penalties, that I was pretty sure Diane was my real true girl friend. As I sat in the back of the room writing out my “Being-late-is-not-excusable” punishment, she whispered in my ear. “I can imitate your writing, and I will write out all the words for you.” “Wow,” I thought. My second thought was that I knew this was cheating, and if my Mom and Dad ever found out, Mrs.’s Cerragino’s punishment would seem like recess. I said no to Diane, and she touched my hand and said she would see me at lunch. We had been sitting together at lunch time eating our bag lunches at one of the outside picnic tables. I liked sitting with Diane, but it seemed to encourage Gordon. He teased me with the “Pretty Boy” name and kept singing out loud: “Tom has a girl friend.” Dale would then come over and sit with us. This was enough to make Gordon move off and shut up. I wondered what would happen if Dale was sick and could not come to school.

I suppose our class room itself was like all others. Behind the actual class with the desk chairs, there was a long room that had hooks for our jackets. It was called the 'cloak room.' I always wondered why the name wasn't the 'coat room." One of many word mysteries. Below the hooks was a divided shelf that was for our lunch boxes and rain shoes. The teacher, and my parents called them galoshes....another word mystery. Our names were on stickers above the coat hook, and on the shelf below. Today I followed Diane into the coat room; we picked up our lunch bags, and went outside to find a seat. Dale had, at this stage, decided that he would sit near us. I gave him a frowned look that told him not to come sit with us.I know he was just waiting for Gordon to start trouble. We opened up our lunch sacks, and I peered in to find only one-half of an apple and a handful of dirt. “What’s going on I said,” wondering where the baloney and lettuce sandwich was. The small piece of candy bar was also gone. Diane peered in the sack and saw the mess. Dale came over and said, “I bet it was that jerk Gordon.” Before Dale we all had a chance to talk, Gordon swaggered over eating my baloney sandwich. In a mocking tone he said, “Thanks for the sandwich Tom, and the candy…..ummmmm good. Eat the dirt, it’s good for you.”

I had swiveled around on the bench to my left with my legs on opposite sides. Gordon leaned in close as he intentionally smacked his lips holding my piece of candy. Without really thinking I clenched my right hand into a fist; swung with all my might, and connected with Gordon’s nose. “SPLAT!” Gordon screamed and blood started gushing out of his nose. His eyes were closed and tears were pouring out. He was screaming “He broke my nose, he broke my nose….” Mrs. Cerragino had been sitting in a chair serving as lunch time yard monitor. This was going to be bad I thought. Dale had jumped in and was sitting on Gordon as he lay writhing on the ground. Diane was holding my hand as I sat with my chin on my chest. I was only thinking of what my Dad would say and do when he found out I had been in a fight. Dale jumped off of Gordon and sat down on the other side of me. My classmates had all gathered around. Our teacher scuttled over with a huge frown on her face. My friends were saying, “Gordon stole his lunch,” over and over again.

“Both of you….come with me!” Our teacher grabbed each of our hands, and began dragging us back to the class room. “Everyone stay exactly where you are until I say you can come in!” By this time Gordon’s nose has eased up some on the bleeding. He was crying like a baby telling me “Wait til I tell my Dad, he is going to beat up your Dad!” Our teacher told us to sit at each end of a long table. "Neither of you are to move until I say you ca move!" I heard her dialing the phone in her office.

After a couple of minutes Mrs. Cerragino came out and told us to sit precisely where she was pointing. The, the school principal, and the boy’s physical education teacher sat at the table with Gordon and me on the opposite sides. The principal leaned in and said “I want to know who hit who first.” Gordon was sputtering that he did not touch me, and that I attacked him. I thought that lying would just makes matters worse, so I said “I hit him first.” “See, I told you,” Gordon was whimpering. I heard a familiar voice, and turned around. My Dad was walking into our classroom. I thought, “I am really in for it now.” The adults all introduced themselves. My father looked down at me and said “Tell me what actually happened!” After I had related my story, Mrs. Cerragino looked at Gordon and said “Is this true?” Our teacher held up her hand palm out, and leaned down so she was about six inches from Gordon’s face. “Remember there are witnesses sitting outside now who will tell the truth. I said “Dale was right there, he can tell you.” Mrs. Cerragino said, “No we needn’t put Dale under stress. It would take too long for him to tell us.” I could swear I heard muffled laughter from the Phys Ed teacher. Gordon kept his mouth shut. “Well it seems we have our answer,” said our principal. “Gordon’s mother will be here soon, and we will tell them the story. Mrs Cerragino pointed at Gordon, and said "You are going sit in the corner desk and write 'Thou shalt not steal' one hundred times. We will leave any other punishment up to your parents.” My Dad leaned over with both of his hands leaning on the table. He looked me in the eye. “We will discuss this more at home. I want you to know that starting a physical fist fight is never the answer, especially if you were not hit first.” We walked out the door. He put his arm around my shoulder and said, “Gordon is a lot bigger than you.” I didn’t know whether to smile or not, but I figured it was OK for me to fight back if I was hit first. As we walked out of the school yard, I looked back and Diane was waving to me. I did not have to guess what they all were talking about.

We were only a few blocks from the school when Dad pulled the old 1937 Chevy to the curb. He said “Come with me, I want you to meet some nice people, and two dogs that really want to be your friend.” My mind was in a whirl. I was thinking that I hoped I never had another day like this one. I thought again, “Maybe things will get better. I wonder if Diane thinks of me as her boy friend.” I was trying to decide if I should ask my Dad if he had a girl friend when he was in the second grade.

This is how I remember it.

Tom

postscript: It wasn't until high school that I learned more about Gordon. Someone was showing a few of us a class picture taken of our third grade class. I saw Gordon standing in the back row. I was seated in front. I never had any more trouble with Gordon. This photo was taken one year after our scuffle. We all moved on to different elementary schools after third grade. I told my friend about my second grade experience. He said that Gordon had moved away. I guess his father was real mean to him. The story was that Gordon had dropped out of high school and ended up in juvenile detention somewhere. What goes around, comes around I thought.

PLEASE COME BACK

2012-02-13T09:54:00.000-08:00

Welcome back readers. I hope you enjoy this temporary journey up a new "fork in the road." Lately I have been posting som SHORT STORIES that I am writing for an international "Author's" web site. Comments are welcome!

thank you

PLEASE COME BACK

“My dear old and loyal friend. It has been years since we have been together. I have been sitting quietly for almost 12 long years now. Do you not miss me? Please try to recall those many hours we spent bonded together. In case you forgot, it was a total of 18 years that our relationship was so very close. Think about all those wonderful places we visited. Remember the natural scenic beauty of the great outdoors in the mountains, and next to cold streams running free. Remember dunking ourselves in the frigid water after a particularly hot day.

How about those magnificent historical cities all over the world? Surely you can fondly recall San Francisco, London, Tokyo, Rio, Paris, and many more. I particularly enjoyed our times on the steep hills of the city by the Golden Gate. Waving to those folks on the cable car was exciting. Crossing the Golden Gate Bridge together is still a beautiful memory. Don’t forget Moscow, Russia when we were joined by the retired KGB officer. He accompanied us on our tour of this mysterious city including the Kremlin. There was never any real danger for us.

We actually joined together at many times for a partnered competition. We performed well, and even received a few blue ribbons for our performance. I can still feel the pounding excitement and exhilaration when our togetherness finally concluded, and we relaxed together, catching our breath. Remember showering together. I cannot forget your gentle scrubbing as you washed my body.

I think it is time that we were together again. OK, it doesn’t have to be as intense as before. We can take it easy, moving more slowly as we become reacquainted. I have also aged, and certainly I am not what I was in the beginning. I have a few worn spots as well, but I know I will as comfortable with you as you were with me at that time long ago. We were very good together, and I believe we took care of each other like the lovers we were. These past 12 years I have remained true to our monogamous relationship. Not once have I ever been with another. I hope that it is the same for you. In my heart I know you treasured our relationship. We related to each other like hand and glove, like foot and shoe.

You tell me that you now have some health issues that keep you apart from me. You know I have certain physical deficiencies that come with age. We are alike in this situation. I sense that your problems are physical in nature, and that you would never be able to have the closeness we once had. I can live with this as I feel the same. What does it matter that we cannot perform as we did long ago?

Perhaps we can enjoy those quiet moments after our energy was depleted, and we sat around with others and shared our experience. We were able to meet others that enjoyed the same things as we did. I recall some individuals that I became quite close to. I noted that they were from the same background as me. I wonder if their partners are still enjoying life with them. I suspect they share our similar situation. Hopefully they are all still together. Please, let’s reconnect. Again, we can move slowly. We are much older now. I will wait patiently for your contact.”

“You are my dearest friend. It simply cannot ever be the same for us. My body is not what it once was. I suffer from joint arthritis, and my muscles just are not as fit any more. My heart has treated me poorly. I developed Arial Fibrillation, in my advanced age. I even have a heart pace maker device which allows my old heart to keep a regular beat. I’m afraid I just could not offer you the sort of excitement that we enjoyed long ago. You say you are willing to accept our advanced aging conditions. Moving slow will be a big change for us. I love you for your kindness and understanding. If you sincerely are truly agreeable to come together again, I admit I am willing to give it a try.

I will contact you soon. Please give me a few weeks to try and improve my physical and mental condition so that our bonding will not be so strange and uncomfortable.

I look forward to our meeting. I am genuinely convinced our old love is here to stay.

Until we meet again soon, I will be thinking of you my dear old, reliable running shoes.”

WHAT ELSE CAN GO WRONG??

2012-02-08T18:26:00.000-08:00

Hello to visitors to my blog. Most know that Travel Tales started out as a blog that revisited many of my interesting experiences as a business world traveler. After 35 years, 77 foreign countries, and logging 1.7 million air miles, there were a few stories I had to tell. Those are all included in this blog.

I recently started writing some short stories. These were true, mostly non-fiction accounts of other experiences. I included some Tales of the "This and That" in our lives. Stories that I thought would interest some readers.

This short story is a tale of an experience that taught me a valuable life lesson. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Please let me know what you think. Citiques are welcome.

WHAT ELSE CAN GO WRONG?

At age twenty I was doing OK. After high school, I had managed to pass college entrance exams and was now in my third year at university. My grades were decent, and my girl friend of five years was still hanging with me. We had planned to be married next year and live just off campus in a small apartment I had staked out. She had been offered a job in a local bank, and would start working before our marriage. I had been fortunate in being able to find part time work. We would need every penny we could scrounge up. “Yeah,” I said to my room mate and best friend, “It doesn’t get much better than this.”

I sipped a cold beer that Friday evening. It was hot and humid in our college apartment. We had no air conditioner, and the four of us were enjoying a night off from the drudgery of studying. Enjoying an occasional “brewski” with our college mates was the least expensive form of entertainment we enjoyed on the weekend. We had been bantering about a number of subjects. Murphy’s Law had been tonight’s topic for discussion. “I don’t believe in ‘Old Wife’s Tales,” I remarked. “Things just happen in our world. You have some little influence on your own good and bad luck.” “Sometimes I wonder about that Tom,” commented Earl. “We make decisions based upon the current given facts. It is only later on that we find out if we made the right decision.” Tom rolled over on his bunk, sat up and said, “Murphy’s Law says ‘If anything can go wrong, it will.’ That makes no sense whatsoever.” Ed, our mathematician, made his views known. “Look, at the end of our lives if we all get together and honestly review the good and bad of it, we will find that we each experienced roughly the same number of good and bad experiences. Murphy’s Law is a bunch of crap.”

It was getting late, and we had a rule that at midnight all noise in the apartment was verboten. No talking, no music, no partying. If we didn’t enforce the rule ourselves, our grumpy land lord would be pounding on our door. We all glanced at the clock, and began putting our empties into a large plastic garbage container. Our absentee roommate, Vern had volunteered this month to take out all our garbage to the dumpster in the back of our building. “Where does Vern go on Friday nights?” I said, “You know he doesn’t drink, and besides I think he has a girlfriend.” “Yeah he is a little secretive.” “What else would you expect from someone that wants to be an Entomologist?” “I’d be interested in hearing what ‘Bug Man’ has to say about Murphy’s Law,” Earl said.

“What’s up for Saturday and Sunday guys?” Ed said to no one in particular. “I’m going to bed,” I said. I have to bike out to Sears for my morning job in their garden shop.” “I meant for tomorrow night. Why don’t we pool our cash and go see that new scary flick in town? It’s called PSYCHO, and the reviews say it will scare the piss out of you.”

As I pedaled out to the Sears Roebuck store, I again thought of just how lucky I was. I had great friends, school was going well, and the greatest girl I had ever met was soon to be my wife. I wondered about a job after graduation; kids, and just making ends meet. I parked my bike in an area so designated; combed my hair, checked my Sears shirt with my name on it, and strolled into the office. “Tom, could I see you for a minute,” announced by boss. He was a nice guy who would eventually retire from a career as a Sear’s employee. “Sure,” I said, “What’s up?” “Tom, I’m sorry to tell you that the front office has told all Dept Managers that we need to lay off a number of our college part time help. I know its bad news, but I don’t really have a choice. You’ve been a great employee, and I will definitely try to hire you back when things change. You can work today until noon, and we will pay you for a full day.”

‘Great,’ I thought. I knew I had to find another job for just my routine daily expenses. I had no trouble in finding part time work in the past. Local merchants liked to hire college students. The wages were on the low side, and there was no need to provide any insurance coverage or other benefits.

After lunch, I said goodbye to the rest of the crew, and headed out to get my bike. When I got to the bike rack I noticed many were tipped over, and my own was missing. A local policeman was walking around with a clip board. He took my name, address and phone number. I described the bike. Fat chance I would get it back. I dug some change out of my pocket, and called the apartment. Our oldest roomy had a car, and I hoped he was home and able to drive out and pick me up. The landlord found Earl working on his car. “Hey Earl, I’ve just been canned, and my bike was stolen. Can you pick me up?” On the drive back I commented, “Well at least I have the term paper typing work.” I had an old manual typewriter that my folks had given me as a high school graduation present. Also a gift was a fancy suitcase. I wondered at the time if my destiny was to travel and do typing work.

Ed met us at the car. He said, “Tom, I have some bad news. I let a friend use your typewriter and he busted it. The damn TV tray table collapsed” “What?” I shouted. “I lose my job; someone steals my bike, now your ‘friend’ broke my typewriter. I need that typewriter to earn the money I get from students who hire me to type their papers!” Ed swore to me that he would scrape together the money to buy me another one. Since Ed seemed not to need to work, I wasn’t too hopeful.

Sleep did not come easy for me that night. I had to get up early for a 7:30 class in one of the old, hot and uncomfortable lecture halls. “Crap,” I muttered to myself as I climbed the stairs to my seat. Chuck greeted me, “Good morning Tom, you look like hell.” Chuck was a few years older than I, and was married. I had been the subject of a few lectures when he found out I would be married soon. Some of the ‘Do and Don’t Do” of married life. I respected his opinions. He said, “Two weeks ago I started working for a furniture outlet in town. I do mostly deliveries, and two guys are needed for this job. The owner asks his nephew to help me when he can. He is not a good worker, and I bet I could get him to hire you.” “That’s fantastic,” I exclaimed. It couldn’t come at a better time.

Three days later Chucked picked me up, and we drove to my new job. I was given coveralls, leather gloves and a speech about expected work habits by the owner of the furniture store. “You can count on Tom, he is a dedicated and dependable worker,” said my friend. I had given him the contact information on my boss at Sears. I made a mental note to stop by Sears and thank my old boss. This was a piece of good news for a change.

One of my specific tasks was to always double check the complicated locking device on the rear swing gate of the open-back delivery truck. Things had been going smoothly for almost a week. The owner dashed into the coffee room and told Chuck and I that he had an emergency delivery. “I can sell a whole lot more to this family if we can get this bedroom suite delivered today. It is a surprise for their newly married daughter.” We jumped up, and Chuck backed the truck up to the delivery dock. “Be quick,” the owner was saying as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation of a big sale. We helped loading the fancy bedroom furniture into the back of the truck. “Let’s go,” yelled Chuck. I jumped in the passenger seat and we tore out of the lot headed for one of the fancier neighborhoods in the city. Chuck was stopped at a red light. It turned green, and he accelerated while making a hard right turn. We heard a loud “crash, bang.” I looked in the rear view mirror and gasped when I saw all the furniture lying in the middle of the intersection. We jumped out and stood, with mouths open, as every beautiful, hand made wooden item of the bedroom suite lay in pieces. A local cop screeched to a halt and began to direct traffic as Chuck and I picked up large pieces of the dresser mirror. I stupidly said, “Good thing we have these heavy gloves.” Chuck was pointing his finger at me. He said, “Did you secure the rear gate?” I was in shock as I realized that I had not done my job.

We both stood before the red-faced owner of the store. He said, “Well I do have insurance, but it will not nearly cover the cost of the damage. I’ll have the bookkeeper figure out our loss, and I will expect both of you to work without pay until we are even.” “What else can go wrong,” I said to Chuck as we walked out to his car. “At least we weren’t fired.” I asked Chuck if he had heard of Murphy’s Law. He looked at me funny, but said nothing. Not only had I royally screwed up, but I had cost my good friend several hundred dollars most likely. He said, “Hey don’t worry so much. This was a freak accident, and we will work through it. This is a good life’s lesson.” I said, “Yeah,” Things just happen.”

When we arrived back at our apartment, Ed rushed out, grabbed my arm saying, “Look Tom I told my Dad about the typewriter. He is going to try and find an old one for you at his office.” “Yeah, but how soon will that happen?” I was holding two telephone messages for call-backs that were in my lobby mail box. “Great,” I moaned after calling back, “My term paper typing jobs are being cancelled. They need the work by this next weekend. I told them I was getting another typewriter, but no one wants to take a chance.” Ed pleaded his case. “Maybe we can hire some office in town to type them.” “That won’t work,” I said, “That will cost me more than I am charging the students.”

“I’m gonna take a walk,” I told Chuck and Ed. They watched me walk away with my head down. “For God sakes don’t mention anything about Murphy’s Law unless you want a busted nose.” “We better make sure Earl and Vern know about Tom’s run of bad luck.

I returned to our room feeling slightly better. We sat around in somewhat of a gloomy atmosphere. Ed had purchased a six pack of beer at the local Deli. There was a knock on the door. The landlord said there was a call waiting for Ed in the lobby. A moment later he came bounding up the stairs, burst into the room and shouted. “Tom, guess what, my Dad has your typewriter. He and my Mom are bringing it down this weekend.” I turned to my friends, raised up my arms and stated: “Does this mean I am finally free of Murphy’s Law?” Ed then handed me a telephone note from my fiancée. She said she wanted to talk to me. “Oh shit,” I thought.

NOTE: I have received e-mails from you readers asking about the "Origin of the saying: MURPHY'S LAW."
Here is a site that perhaps gives the answer:
http://www.murphys-laws.com/murphy/murphy-true.html

TRAGEDY AMIDST BEAUTY...a true story!

2012-02-03T18:56:00.000-08:00

TRAGEDY AMIDST BEAUTY …a true story

I popped open one eye, exhaled and saw my breath. It was a very cold early morning inside our wooden floor, canvas tent cabin. The small thermometer clipped to my down sleeping bag zipper said 28 degrees……”Brrrrrrr,” I whispered to myself. Lifting my head I could see that the human forms inside the other bags had started to stir. My daughter, Sister, brother-in-law, and their son had exposed their noses only. All were awake and, I hoped, eager to prepare for our planned climb.

“Let’s decide who gets up and makes coffee,” I said. “Ok, each of you pick a number from 1 to 20.” I thought this a clever plan as it would exclude yours truly…heh, heh! My sister Pam volunteered with only minor grumbling. She began gathering up the necessary stuff; backpacking gas stove, coffee grounds, filter bag, and stainless steel pot. Feeling slightly guilty, I offered to fetch the water from outside our tent. This was enough to motivate all the others to exit the warmth of their bags into the icy cold mountain air. The usual shivering and moaning followed as each set a speed record in getting dressed. They took inventory: a couple of shirts for layering, shorts, heavy socks, and our day hiking boots. “Don’t forget your rubberized gloves as they will assist with the steel cable part of the climb.” I reminded all to bring a light weight nylon wind breaker as the top of our ascent would be windy. Also part of the early 16.4 mile round trip trail would have blowing, cold mist from the water falls. We all had fanny packs to hold sunscreen, water, sun glasses, camera, and a few energy bars. I would carry a small first-aid kit.
All of us had a lot of backpacking experience, and this day hike should prove to be a piece of cake. The climb was very steep after the first few miles, and rated difficult. Good physical condition was required for the full round trip climb. The good news is that no heavy back packs were needed for this one, long day trip.

There was always something special about that first cup of coffee on a cold morning, and a lot of eager sighs were heard as we drank the hot and strong wake-up brew. We all jumped up and down to encourage circulation. Our daughter had already fired up her stove and was boiling water for the oatmeal breakfast that would fortify us for the steep trail climb to the top.

“Ok, let’s review our plan,” I said after breakfast. I saw some eyes roll up with a here- comes-the-lecture murmur, but everyone knew that was the S.O.P. before any group hike. “It is clear that this is a very popular hiking route here in Yosemite Valley, especially the first 2 miles. This Vernal Falls trail, as you can see on your trail map, parallels the outflow of the 2 water falls. It is named the Mist Trail for a reason. Rocks close to the falls can be treacherously slick. Everyone must carry a hiking staff. The number of hikers will dramatically fall off beyond the top of the falls.”

Everyone was joking and chatting as we began our trek at 7:30 a.m. All were excited about the thought of actually standing on top of the signature Yosemite Valley landmark. We were headed to the rounded top of Half Dome, that imposing piece of granite with it’s glacially sliced off front that faced the Yosemite Valley floor. I suspect that every person in the world, excepting the most remotely hidden primitive tribes, had seen pictures of this breathtaking site.

We all breathed a sigh of relief when we finally passed the last of the hiking crowd milling around the foot bridge at the top of The Mist Trail. We stopped to chat with a few hikers, and we snapped some photos of the roaring water fall. I heard one of our group say “now for the real fun part of the climb.”

I reminded everyone to drink plenty of water, even if not thirsty. I knew I was ‘preaching to the choir,’ but I did not want any unexpected delays caused by someone ignoring a basic rule that applied to any extended physical activity.

We had settled into a comfortable climbing pace. There was the occasional grunt or two, and a few shout outs of ‘wow, will you look at that.” It was then that we saw the first WARNING sign: “DANGEROUS during and after lightning and rain storms. SERIOUS INJURY AND DEATH have resulted from: falls on wet, slick rock; lightning strikes to hikers on exposed terrain. EVALUATE WEATHER before proceeding past this point.” We purposely had begun this difficult hike early to allow us to reach the summit of Half Dome before noon. We would eat a lunch, take some pictures, and begin the descent after one hour maximum. We were well aware of the common rain, thunder and lightning storms that struck all high granite peaks in the mountains almost daily.

We approached the bottom of the famous steel cable and two by four wooden ladder that we had to climb to reach the top of half dome. There were no other hikers waiting to take this last, but somewhat perilous ascent to the top. The ladder was steep, and hugged the sheer, bare granite side of this monolith. We put on our rubberized gloves, and I asked one last time if anyone wanted to skip this part of the climb. Looking straight up did cause one to gasp a little. We said a silent prayer and each began the climb. No one seemed to have any fear, so all ended up safely on the top. No one looked downward or backward during the climb. All eyes had been steady on the few feet up and in front.

We all walked to the center of the relatively flat granite surface and started taking in the views. ‘WOW’ was a unanimous exclamation as we stood back to back in awe of the magnificent 360 degree view. Immediately everyone snagged their cameras from their fanny packs and began snapping pictures. It was a good day for Kodak as each of us shot a full roll of 36 images or more. I dared to slither to an edge looking over the valley below. I secured the camera strap around my neck and arm; pointed it downward, and clicked off several shots. I hoped that at least a few would turn out as I could not actually view the camera’s lens image.

Everyone now put on their “I MADE IT TO THE TOP” souvenir T Shirt, and more photos were taken.

The descent off the peak and the return hike started for us before our one hour limit. No one wanted to push our good luck.

After we had only hiked for 30 minutes, we encountered a group of teen-agers hiking up. I suggested that is was rather late for them to be attempting a climb to the top. I told them there were distant dark clouds in the horizon. They said they read the signs, but all seemed to agree that they were at no risk. I repeated the warning and noted that there had been lightning storms almost every day and evening during the week. We all said a ‘good luck’ and continued on down the trail.
The hike down was almost as difficult as the ascent. Our knees took a pounding. We did have a minor sprained ankle. After pausing to wrap the ankle, we finished up the hike mid-afternoon. Our injured member soaked his ankle in some ice cold water, and the rest of us took turns under the shower. Getting rid of the sweat and trail dust was always something to look forward to.

After we had changed clothes we piled into one of our trucks and headed for the five star dinner we had promised ourselves as reward for our efforts. We had reservations at the very famous Ahwahnee Hotel. It was early for the dinner hour so we had no trouble getting seated. The thunder sounded before we had finished our salads. Looking out the tall picture windows in the dining room, we could see that it had become much darker. Rain was now falling and lightning flashes could be seen. The following thunder told us the storm still might be miles away. Each of us thought about the young folks that passed us intent on climbing to the top. I hoped that they had heeded the warning signs, and had found shelter prior to the final climb away from the open granite surface.

As other diners began taking their seats, the buzz was about the storm and the hope that no one was caught at the top of Half Dome. I did mention the kids we had seen making the late climb. The lightning and thunder had intensified, and the storm had moved into the valley. Rain was pouring down and we could see puddles forming out in the meadow and parking lot. Guests inside the hotel had now begun to crowd around the windows with a view of the Ahwahnee meadow. It was now too dark to see the top of Half Dome as the black clouds of the violent storm had covered it up.
The low scream of a siren now penetrated the dining room. People were now talking about the people that had been caught on top of Half Dome. Next we heard the “whup, whup, whup” of a helicopter. The helicopter gently set down in the meadow as a ground crew ran to the chopper. In a few minutes it lifted off again. Someone next to us noted that the chopper was a large one with a super-charged engine that could operate at the higher altitude. A rescue was clearly in operation. The faces of the young kids we had passed now flashed before my eyes. I prayed that they were OK. The storm continued, but the rain was now very light, and the thunder and lightning showed less frequently.

My sister, a registered nurse, volunteered her service, but was told that adequate personnel were already standing by. It seemed like an eternity had passed, but a glance at my watch indicated only one hour had elapsed since the rescue alert had been sounded. The rescue chopper returned to the meadow. The stand-by ground crew rushed out with two stretchers.

As we finally got the news, our hearts seemed to sink, as the reports were bad. One person had been blown off the top, and was found dead on the loose granite rocky scree slope at the base of the peak. Another had died on the top. Three more were seriously burned. After 3 more trips we learned that all of the hikers had been brought down. Two ambulances, with lights flashing, awaited the loading of the injured that would be taken to a nearby trauma center outside the park. A black hearse slowly backed up to the edge of the meadow. Two bodies were eventually loaded into the back of this vehicle. The loud speaker inside the hotel was announcing the outcome of the rescue efforts. People were whispering about the sad news. Many crowded into the bar to sit quietly and talk about these tragic events.

We learned about past incidences very similar to what we had just witnessed. Many had died here in this beautiful setting. All of us talked about our past hiking experiences, and how really lucky we had been. I said that “It was more than luck……we all respect the wilderness and we always behaved like the visitors we knew we were.” I posed a question to all our group: "Does anyone feel strongly that we were just lucky? That it just wasn't our 'time' today?" One response sort of spoke for everyone: "I think maybe we had a little luck, but mostly I think it was our experience and thorough preparation." No one seemed to dispute this statement.

A prayer was said for the deceased, injured, and their loved ones. "Dear Lord we ask that you care for the souls of those who lost their life. Impart wisdom to those that were spared. Lastly, please touch the hearts of their loved ones, and allow them the understanding of your presence. Help to heal their psychological wounds....Amen." A few tears were shed. This beautiful summer's day of July 27, 1985 would be remembered by us all as one of the most "good, bad, and ugly" time of our lives.

The short drive back to our tent was a quiet one. We all sat around a fire pit talking about our experience and how it had changed our lives. About midnight I poked out the fire, and said good night to each. The ensuing dreams were those of the faces of the victims. No one slept well.

BELOW ARE SOME PHOTOS TAKEN ON THIS FUN & SAD DAY

****SPOOKY!!

2012-01-30T21:15:00.000-08:00

"It was just the setting that triggered your imagination to "think" you saw something that wasn't there." My friend was just itching to say it again: "Remember that like it or not, you are one of THEM!"

So remarks a friend as we discussed certain wilderness trips in the west that we experienced in our younger, more adventurous days. I had mentioned an unusual experience I had on one backpacking trip into the Desolation Wilderness in the El Dorado National Forest just immediately south and west of Lake Tahoe.

At the time we lived in the San Jose area, and needed to drive up into the Sierras on Highway 50 to deal with some paperwork relating to a lot we owned north of Placerville. I had just completed a hectic foreign travel business trip, and thought I would like to take a three day backpacking trek into this beautiful and desolate part of the Sierras to "unwind." We picked up my wilderness pass before we began the picturesque drive down Highway 89 toward Emerald Bay.

I decided that I would go solo, but would bring our German Sheppard Dodger along on the trek. He had gone with me on other trips, and did just fine, even carrying his own food supply in his doggie pack.

My wife dropped me off at a trail head near the bottom of beautiful Emerald Bay. I had made arrangements to get a ride home with others.

As Dodger and I headed up the trail, I turned around for a view of the bay which takes on the look of an appendage to Lake Tahoe......quite the breath-taking site!

The trail headed straight uphill where it would meet the Pacific Crest trail that ran north and south through the middle of D.W. We crested the hill and were greeted by a beautiful boulder strewn valley. The small Rubicon River ran parallel to the Pacific Trail, and the Crystal Range was the background. I read where this massive rock wall lit up orange at sunrise.

We hiked down the P.C. trail for another mile or so, and I dumped the pack just about 50 yards off the trail above Dick's Lake. After laying out the ground tarp, and setting up the rain tarp over it, Dodge and I headed for the lake for a dip. I brought the collapsible water jug to give us water for dinner and breakfast. Dodger beat me to the water; took a big drink and then did a swim out with a quick u-turn. I stripped down and jumped in, anxious to wash off the trail dust....."YIKES, " the cold water was a shock and really got my blood pumping!

After dinner, Dodger plopped down next to my sleeping bag, and I took advantage of the remaining light to get further into the paperback book I had packed. I then cleared a space; shoved some of the larger rocks into a circle, and started a small fire using some of the dead wood I found under the trees.

The Sun set behind the Crystal Range, and I decided to turn in. I set my digital watch alarm to wake me early so I could get a few shots of the sunrise on the massive rock wall to our west across the Rubicon River. I tossed a few more larger pieces of dead wood onto the fire, and crawled in the bag, and Dodger snuggled up next to me. It seemed we both felt more secure when we could feel each other's body next to our own. He was great company and stayed close to my side at all times. There was a time on a Kings Canyon park trip where he fell off a large tree that we were using to cross a swollen creek in an early Spring with heavy run off. Much excitement as I ran parallel to his swiftly floating 90 pound mass, and finally jump out in front of him as I grabbed his body and we both kicked to the beach........another time, another story.

Frost greeted us when we woke in the early, pre-sunrise frigid air. I forced myself up and started the camp stove to boil some water. After I poured a cup of coffee, I heated more water into which I dumped a packet of Oatmeal and freeze dried fruit. Dodger gobbled his breakfast and then wandered off to take care of business.

The big guy came back and lay down with his ears on alert, as he stared across the valley below us to a fixed point almost 300 yards away. He started to emit a deep throated growl never breaking his concentration. I looked, but saw nothing. I poured myself another cup of coffee and sat down next to my furry guardian. I again tried to pick out the spot he had fixed upon, and all of a sudden something darted from behind one boulder to another.....maybe 1.5 seconds I guessed was all the time it took. It seemed to be an upright figure. I thought most likely a fisherman or other hiker. Dodger increased the volume of the growl. I knew there were perhaps Marmots up here, but doubted there were bears as I thought the elevation might be too high. Maybe a Mountain Lion? If Dodger had recognized the movement as humankind, he would have stood up and begun to wag his tail. Dodge wanted to befriend every stranger he met.

I cupped my hands over my eyes and sat staring for maybe two or three more minutes. Dodger kept still, and nothing moved in the distance. I was just about to conclude the entire episode was my imagination running wild, but Dodger was still on high alert, his hair standing up now on his back and neck. I was just turning back to the shelter when I again saw movement in my peripheral vision. Dodger increased the volume of his growl. I waited again for five minutes or so, decided that we did not want any part of a Mountain Lion attack out here in the middle of nowhere.

It was an easy decision for me to make, as I did not want to risk another night in the dark. We would skip a second overnight here, and get moving right now to the finish of our hike at Echo Lake and highway 50. I never did get the sunrise photo, so found one on-line. This beautiful shot (and others can be seen at www.fabulousnature.com

The final trek was a fast one, as I continuously cranked my neck to the right hoping not to see any more evidence of our "mysterious tracker." I held my six inch Buck lock-back knife open and clenched in my right hand during the entire hike. Dodger also would occasionally glance toward the ridge where we both saw "movement."

When we arrived several hours later at the first public building, I telephoned my friend to advise of our schedule change. I asked a ranger about the animals that roamed the Desolation Wilderness area. He did confirm that there have been Mountain Lion sightings. I related what I "thought I saw," and he just looked at me with a funny grin. I knew I should have skipped over the part where I said: "The thing was standing upright and ran in that position....." The ranger told me that there had been no access permit issued to anyone that stated they would be in this particular area of the Wilderness.

On the way back home my friend, joked about the story, and said: "Well it seems that you now are forever going to be included in the looney bunch who claim they saw Yeti or the Abominable Snowman. I can't wait to bring this up at our next party!"

The rest of the ride was subdued as I kept telling myself that it would be quite obvious to anyone to easily note the difference between a Mountain Lion and a crazed human stalker. I was a sane and very practical person. I would forever wonder what we had seen on that day hiking Desolation Wilderness.

There is a small hamlet right here in our own Siskiyou Mountain range that claims to be the "BIG FOOT" capital of the world. You will enjoy this attached article written by John Flynn . It appeared on line when I opened my internet news site......."In Search of Sasquatch"

http://www.viamagazine.com/destinations/essay-search-sasquatch?

****Vlad The Impaler, A Real Pain In The Butt!

2012-01-18T11:38:00.000-08:00

Deep within a dark forest, high on a hill sits the castle of ........

I had contracted with a new agent in Romania. This country, seeing the end of Communism after a 1989 revolution, was begining to grow economically. Our agent had started a business and had visited with me at a recent trade show in England. They were receiving training on our systems, and invited me to visit their offices near Bucharest.

Awwwww!.....the story of the developing businesses in this formerly repressed country is pretty boring. My two agents were competent technical engineers, and I could see the gradual development of their thriving business. The new government seemed quite interested in what our company had to offer to assist dealing with certain problems of a growing "free enterprise" economy.

They convinced me that a tour of the city of Bucharest was pretty dull. A drive north to the country and a visit to a very famous site, I was assured, would be more interesting.

After a great lunch with these two guys they finally began to tell me of our intended tour of Bran Castle. All of a sudden I realized that we were going to visit the very famous Castle of Count Dracula. We packed into the car and began the drive on the narrow country roads, through the forests of Transylvania toward this famous landmark made legend by the Irish author Bram Stoker in 1897.

To better understand this story, I was told it all started in the mid 15th century with Prince Vlad III of Wallachia. Old Vlad, I learned, was famous for his resitance to the Ottoman Empire and its aggressive expansion in Vlady's back yard. The more famous name for this character was "Vlad The Impaler." This is Russian for "Son of the Dragon." He would punish and kill his captured enemies by impaling them on sharpened stakes......good thing that cameras were not invented then. This drawing will give you some idea. I guess Vlad was known to set up a banquet table as he watched his enemies die.....yuchh!

Moving right along.....Bram Stoker used the stories of Vlad the Impaler to inspire his book about the vampire Count Dracula.

I learned that there are many variations of the story of Count Dracula, and that this castle was one of many used to relate and illustrate the legend. There is no evidence that Bram Stoker even knew of Bran Castle.

The castle tour proved to be fascinating. I tried to imagine people living in the cold of this stark and imposing structure built in 1313. There were hidden passageways, rooms and other stark and frightening reminders of Vlad's presence.

The castle is located in the vicinity of Brasov, and is a national monument in Romania. Road side booths were hawking all kinds of Dracula souveniers. We bought some local wine & Vodka to test that evening at our dinner meeting. The wine, of course, being red. Not too bad I remember.

Those who might find that Bucharest is scheduled on their European tour, must make time for a visit to Count Dracula's lair deep in the dark forest, high on a hill in Transylvania.

Today I note that the stories of Vampires seems to be in the news a lot. I'm not sure of the fascination, but the movie DRACULA could be an influence. This movie poster is a little frightening.

For those interested in the history of the legend, I suggest one of the books available at Amazon and shown here.

JAPAN BOMBS OREGON?

2012-01-15T22:09:00.000-08:00

Most of us know that the first real air raid retaliation by the USA on Japan's homeland, in retaliation to the attack on Pearl Harbor, came on April 18, 1942 when Lt. Col JIMMY DOOLITTLE led sixteen US Air Force B-25B bombers launched from the Navy's carrier USS Hornet. The bold raid was basically unsuccessful, but sent a clear message to the Japanese that they were vulnerable to attack, and that they had "awakened a sleeping giant."

Enraged at the invasion of their homeland, Emperor Hirohito and military top brass devised a secret plan to ignite the forests of the American mainland with incendiary bombs. It was thought that a large part of the Northwest USA could be burned up, and instill fear into the USA citizens and destroy their morale.....Americans would be in a "panic!"

Enter at "stage left" soon-to-be-famous Chief warrant officer and pilot Nubuo Fujita. Nubuo was called upon to lead the invasion. In fact it could be said that Fujita WAS the invasion. His small two crew float pontoon plane was to be partially disassembled and carried by a submarine to a position off the Coast of Oregon. Oregon, after all, had large forests and would be the perfect spot to drop the incendiary bombs to create the huge fire maelstrom! His small plane would be reassembled and launched from the sub via a catapult. He had practiced many times for this major war event.

Fujita was excited, but disappointed that he would not be bombing Los Angeles or San Francisco.

On September 9th, Nubuo Fujita was preparing for his "daring" secret mission that would propel him into the history books. He carried his family's 400 year old Samurai sword in the cockpit as he had done on his mission to Pearl Harbor December 7, 1941. Fujita said later that if he was forced down, he could use the sword to end his life rather than be captured by the enemy!

He and his one man crew lifted into the sky and headed for the coast of Oregon. The fishing town of Brookings was peaceful.....the citizens had no clue that they were in the midst of an enemy air attack.

The "attack plane" dropped their bombs from 8200 feet. One of the two bombs ended up being a dud.

At the same time, a little past noon, a local fire lookout radioed in a fire report. The blaze was located and quickly extinguished. Within a few hours the US military and the FBI were on the scene. US Air Force coastal patrol ultimately spotted the submarine, but Fujita had beat
a hasty retreat unable to view the intended "massive forest fire", and the sub submerged and headed back to Japanese waters. Thus concluded the first and only enemy airplane raid over the continental United States

The rest of the war in the Pacific is history.

We now move to 1962, Brookings Oregon. The citizens of Brookings were desperate to attract more visitors to their annual Azalea Festival. Some creative person suggested that they locate the former Japanese pilot and invite him to attend the festival as a sort of "forgive and forget" gesture from his former enemies.

Of course there would need to be some major assurances that old Nubuo was not being sought for a trial as a war criminal!

The ultimate visit by the Fujita family was a huge success. Nubuo, expressing his deepest apologies, presented his centuries-old Samurai sword to the City of Brookings. It still resides in the town library. This photo shows Nubuo inspecting the final resting place of his family's Samurai sword.

Many of the Brookings citizens met with Fujita.

Nubuo was very grateful, and vowed that upon his return to Japan he would work hard to organize a visit to Japan for some American students. In 1985 Fujita made good on his promise. Three honor students from Brookings Harbor High School were on their way to Japan compliments of the former bomber pilot turned peacemaker.

Nubuo Fujita passed away on Sept 30, 1997. He had been made an honorary citizen of Brookings Oregon, U.S.A. Many tears were shed on this sad day....both in Brookings and in Japan.

***** A Dutch Mugging in Amsterdam

2012-01-03T10:04:00.000-08:00

Amsterdam, Holland, is a fascinating city. The Dutch engineering accomplishments in keeping an entire ocean from flooding the seven hundred fifty thousand inhabitants in this below sea level city is amazing.

A boat tour is a good way to see the many canals and the hundreds of houseboat, barge-type dwellings. I learned that these homes were permanent in that they were not actively mobile. They were handed down from generation to generation. The boat houses were anchored and tied up to the concrete sides of the canals. Amsterdam has more canals then Venice, and hundreds of small bridges over these famous, narrow waterways.

This old city was the perfect place for a walking tour. I loaded my fanny pack with map; brochures, and set off to see the sights in this compact town. The streets off the canals were narrow, and the buildings were packed together like row houses. I was told that the heavy wooden beam and pulley system protruding out from the roof of each house was used to haul large items up to the particular residence or business on the upper floors. The stairs were narrow and were just not practical for large deliveries.

I visited the famous Anne Frank House which now is a small museum. This was a somber experience and you are allowed to walk freely through the museum. Anne Frank and her family were hidden here during the Second World War occupation by the Nazis. You will not be able to visit without having a tear form as you study the lives of this family and this courageous, little girl.

What was then a Sonesta Hotel near the city Centrum area was my new digs for this business trip. I had arranged a meeting with my friend Ralph, who worked for a large East Coast USA company that was forming a new division. This business group would act as a security industry contractor doing site survey, engineering and installation work for our systems being designed for large facilities.

Ralph was booked into another hotel, and we had set up a dinner get-together at the world famous Five Flies restaurant near city center. The Five Flies is a five star eating establishment across from Amsterdam’s History Museum. It is very old, and was rated as the city’s No. 1 Best Restaurant when I was visiting. We were to meet in the bar for a drink, and then enjoy a leisurely dinner as we discussed our possible future business arrangements.

A glance out of my hotel room window that evening revealed a gloomy sky, and the weather forecast was for rain. I removed my business dress shoes and laced up the old reliable running shoes. I grabbed my wool hat, rain coat, and collapsible fold-up umbrella. I must have gone through a dozen of these handy travel umbrellas during my travels. Leaving them on taxi and bus seats and in hotel rooms was not uncommon for me. The hotel concierge shouted to me as I passed his station: “Have a good evening Mr. McGhee, and mind the rain that is due in about an hour.”

Heading out of the lobby entrance, I decided to take another walk on one of the canal streets I had yet not visited. It was already dark, and many of the old house boats were lit up like Christmas trees. Occasionally a window drape was left open and I could see folks moving about, preparing their dinners, and some reading or watching TV.

There weren’t that many people out walking this early evening. Since the cars were packed tightly on the narrow streets, and not an open space in sight. I assumed most residences were at home, and anticipating the coming storm, decided to stay in for the evening.

Glancing at my small city center map, I could see that I was only a few blocks from the Five Flies restaurant. A small car had been circling the block, and I assumed was seeking a parking spot. Each time it passed me the driver would slow and look in my direction. I began to be a little apprehensive as I was the only one out on this small and dark street. My pace picked up considerably as the car had circled now, for the third time, and drove slowly past me. His brake lights went on about fifty meters up the street, and I supposed he had found that rare parking space.

The driver emerged from his car and began walking towards me; the collar of his coat turned up, and a hat pulled low on his forehead. “Uh Oh,” I uttered, and now began looking around for possible escape routes from what I was certain was a mugging in the making. My heart began racing. I reached into my right coat pocket and grasped the stubby umbrella. It had a solid metal, slightly rounded tip that might serve as a defense weapon. I could hear my heart pounding.

If I could keep him from getting too close, I knew I could certainly out run him. As he moved to within about forty feet from me I noticed he had his hand inside his coat pocket. I thought ‘Damn, he has a knife or gun.’ Can someone own a gun in Holland? I raised my arm and said, “Can I help you?” He did not answer, and maybe did not speak English. He kept coming closer. I said more loudly, “Stop right there!” He now sort of shrugged his shoulders upward, but kept walking.

My adrenaline was, by now, pumping at a high level. I was definitely in a fight or flight mental mode. Surprise was a useful weapon in a one on one fight. He was now only a few feet from me and had not said a word. Without thinking further I lunged out with the umbrella, and with all the force I could muster, drove the tip of the umbrella into his breast bone. This would-be mugger went down like a sack of potatoes. He was holding his chest and writhing about on the cobblestone street. He was moaning but I could not make out a word he was saying. The ‘flight’ part of my frantic thoughts now took hold, and I sprinted away as fast as I could. I turned a corner and noticed that my assailant did not try to pursue. I slowed and ducked behind a parked car looking back toward the dark street. No one appeared, and my heart rate had slowed somewhat. Now I was worried that he was seriously injured and might need medical assistance. I thought ‘should I check on him to see if he is seriously injured?’ ‘Jeez, I thought…I could go to jail for assault.’ I doubted that he got a good look at my face. I could beat it to the restaurant and just forget about the whole incident.

Using the parked cars as a shield, I did a slow stoop-walk back to where I could look back at the scene of attack. The guy, obviously in serious pain, was in a sitting position on the sidewalk. He was bent over holding his chest. I walked down the center of the street keeping my eyes on him. When I was about ten feet away I said, “Do you speak English?” He nodded yes and proceeded to try and stand up. I still had the umbrella in my hand and raised it. He shook his head from side to side and held up his hand, palm facing me, and sat back down. I said, “The police have been summoned, so do not move. He then stood; backed up and sat down on a small concrete step in front of a door. There was still no one around that I could ask to help. I slowly walked up to him and said “You were going to rob me.” “No, no, no….” he moaned. He then said, “I just vant to know vere de vomans are.” I paused trying to understand him, and then realized he was asking where the Red Light District was. I reached in my pocket for my money clip, and ‘donated’ twenty dollars to his cause. I led him to the corner, and pointed in the direction I knew to be the area where he would find what he sought. I watched him for a few seconds as he slowly walked away rubbing his chest.

The absence of a policeman in the area maybe had been lucky for me. Any legal action might not have thrown me a break. I turned around and walked the opposite direction to circle around the block to the Five Flies restaurant. Entering this famous eating establishment, I headed for the bar where I found Ralph. He said, “what in the hell took you so long?” I replied, “You’re never going to believe it.”

*****Beauty, Tragedy - Half Dome Hike Yosemite

2012-01-01T23:13:00.000-08:00

While our children were in their teen years, we did some backpacking and serious over night hiking. This included the Appalachian and Florida Everglades trails. Also parts of the John Muir trail in the Sierras of California. These times we had together are still cherished. There was, of course, some moments of high elation when that spectacular water fall, or mountain vista came into view. There were also other times of injury, fatigue, and general I-wish-we-were-finished mind set. All in all, our kids remember these together moments as fun times. I don't suspect they would be traded for anything.

There was one backpack and camping trip to Yosemite Valley that will never be forgotten. I and our oldest daughter were to meet my sister and family in Yosemite for a fun camping get together.

There may be only a very few of you reading this post that have not visited this most beautiful of all our National Parks. At least most of you have seen many pictures of the beautiful landscape of this treasure in the Sierras of California.

We had made plans to hike to the top of Half Dome using the cable ladder that had been installed years earlier by the National Park Service. The hike via the Vernal Falls Trail was spectacular.

Our big celebration treat to ourselves, assuming all went well, was to dine in the very beautiful and famous Ahwahnee Hotel. See: www.yosemitepark.com/Accomodations_TheAhwanee.aspx

But let me digress just slightly to some of the cautions that were made known to all Half Dome hikers. It is rated as a difficult hike and climb. Only experienced hikers that were physically fit should ever even attempt it. The risk of injury was moderate. BUT.....the most significant danger was from lightning strikes on top of this huge rock. It is reported that lightning can strike any day during the summer months .Twenty people have died from lightning strikes and falls on the top of Half Dome. More than 60 have died if one counts the fatal injuries just hiking the trail to the top.

The Park Service has several signs posted that warn of the danger. No hikers are to attempt the climb if a storm is pending, or the visibility has been seriousl reduced by fog or rain.

There were other signs strongly advising against climbing to the top in the mid to late afternoon due to the higher probability of lightning strikes.

The hike takes all day (round trip) at about 15 miles, and an early start is recommended. With fanny packs of water and snacks as well as a first aid kit, we began the trek. The scenery is pretty spectactular, and in early spring you can expect some freezing spray from the roaring falls.

We arrived at the base of the cable ladder a few hours later, and were pleased to see that there was not a crowd waiting to make the ascent.

We were lucky.....

After taking some deep breaths, we carefully began the cable ladder climb up the sheer granite face. We all made it up to the top.....whew! It then was a time for a silent prayer, and we all huddled together seated for a few minutes.

Those of us that were photographers began snapping shots of just about everything. Yours truly even crawled to the leading front edge of the rock for some picture taking. Years later when looking at this photo the words "pretty stupid" came into mind.

The views were, needless to say, breath-taking! This point or peak of Half Dome is called the throne, but there is no way I was going to "sit" here. I shot a dozen or so photos then slithered back to more safety until my heart rate slowed.

The descent went safely, and as we began the hike back maybe a quarter mile from the base of the cable climb, we ran into some teenagers who were hiking up. We stopped them and warned that it was not safe to be on the dome in the afternoon. I suppose like many teenagers they just did not comprehend the danger, and felt invincible.

We finally made it to our cabins. First thing we did was stand in a hot shower and lather all the dust and grime from our bodies. One of our group had sprained an ankle, and we bandaged it up as best we could.

We could see heavy clouds moving into the valley and over Half dome. A common summer thunder storm was brewing. Thoughts of the late hikers came to mind, and we hoped they would be safe.

It was growing dark, and the rain had begun to fall with clearly visible lightning on top of Half Dome. Lightning was flashing on top almost in stacato fashion, and then the boom would roar into the valley a split second later. We were seated in the Ahwanhee hotel watching the top as people began buzzing about the storm. Shortly thereafter a rescue helicopter landed in Ahwahnee Meadow just a couple hundred yards from us. The word now was that there were hikers on the top when the lightning struck.

It seemed everyone was asking around to see if anyone knew the hikers. We said we had passed a group of several kids on the way up, and warned them of the danger.

The bad news finally arrived after the supercharged rescue helicopter had returned from its first trip. One person had been killed by lightning on the top of Half Dome, and another blown off the top and killed in the fall on the loose rock scree slope several hundred feet below the dome. My sister was a nurse and volunteered to help with the injured.

The rest of this sad and tragic story is too morose to tell.

BEWARE OF THE DANGERS: http://www.hikehalfdome.com/Accidents.html

http://www.foxnews.com/us/2011/08/12/teen-dies-from-head-injuries-after-fall-at-yosemite-national-park/?test=latestnews

I have summited this mountain once myself. I was a conditioned runner, and it was one of the most physically difficult things I have ever done. The problem is that many who marvel at the site of this glorious mountain let the "star dust" get in their eyes. They become determined to climb it when they are not physically able, and do not even have the right equipment and clothing.

These articles appearing in regional newspapers are all too common in our spring and summer.

"MOUNT SHASTA — Rescue crews this morning found a climber dead in a snow cave near Mt. Shasta's summit. Thomas Bennett, 26, of Oakland, had been stranded in …"

"Climber’s Body Found On Mount Shasta – KCRA Sacramento"

"A rescue crew has found the body of a missing climber in a snow cave near the top of Mount Shasta, a sheriff says. More MOUNT SHASTA, Calif. …"

All who venture into the wilderness need to respect it and do a thorough job of planning. Advice from the real experts should be sought.

Contact for Ahwahnee Hotel:
http://www.nationalparkreservations.com/yosemite_ahwahnee.php

You might also like "Some Backpacking Scares" and "Meet Mr. A. E. Gator"
see list of blog posts on left

http://tmac-traveltales.blogspot.com/2010/08/backpackingthe-good-bad-ugly.html

http://tmac-traveltales.blogspot.com/2010/07/meet-mr-albert-e-gator.html

I Guess I was wrong........

2011-12-29T21:36:00.000-08:00

I GUESS I WAS WRONG.......!

.......for perhaps misleading my readers by implying that our unusual Linticular Cloud formations are, while extremely interesting, merely a resulting phenomena caused by certain weather conditions: i.e. wind, air moisture, cloud presence, and atmospheric pressure near the mountain peak. I am sorry the post may have been "misleading."

I am being called to task by someone who claims to have intimate knowledge of these "clouds," ....."they are not what they seem it seems!

I've received an e-mail from a viewer of my posts on the very unusual Linticular Cloud formation photo that appears as an intro picture at the beginning of this blog. I also posted a brief story about this weather phenomenon that I photographed. See the post: "They're Baaaaack!!!"....

I insert the subject photo here......

I am accused of being quite uninformed about the many forms and shapes of the "visiting Lemurian Space Crafts." If one looks closely it is fairly "obvious" that the bottom formation is the actual space craft Command ship cloaked in clouds to hide the true identification. The left side protuberance is the actual nose of the craft.....most probably the flight deck. The balance of the craft behind the flight deck would house the power sources, offices, etc.

How could I have been so stupid to have missed this? The two spherical formations (also cloaked in clouds for secrecy) are the "Living Quarters and the storage space for food, supplies, and possibly an advanced medical complex used for examinations of Humanoids snatched up for study........."

It is suggested that the craft is heading north to visit other mountain tops. Heck.....I figured this out for myself as most mountains lie to the north of Mt. Shasta.

OK....I guess that clears up all the mystery. I have agreed to the anonymity of the contributor of this valuable information.

I note here that this person (maybe a Lemurian) does not reside in Mount Shasta.

That Rod Serling's Twilight Zone tune is getting louder in my ears.....it's probably just Tinitus!

TELOS - "Mystical City Where??"

2011-12-28T10:44:00.000-08:00

OK....I've received more than a few inquiries from viewers who have read our posts "LINTICULARS and LOONIES, " and "THEY'RE BAAAAACK!!!"

Generally the question posed is: "Just how widespread is the belief that Lemurians live in the city of TELOS under Mount Shasta?"

I assume each is referencing local residents. Let me first refer any reader interested in the history of Mt. Shasta, CA go to: http://www.siskiyous.edu/shasta/his/index.htm

Some where (probably a Psychology class) I read that we humans are fascinated, and need, "MYTHS" to ponder over. Those fascinating tales passed on from our ancestors. Certainly the myth of the advanced Lemurian creatures living under our mountain in the ancient city of Telos is by far the the largest mythical story that exists in "these here parts."

Mount Shasta is a city of under 4000 residents that sits at the foot of our 14, 172 foot mountain. The population can swell to almost 10000 during our summer months, especially the week of our July 4th Independence Celebration. Our city "fathers"tell us Mount Shasta has the largest "Little City" July 4th celebration in America (?).

To help you visualize this story, pretend the theme song from Rod Serling's TWILIGHT ZONE is playing in the background.

Now....where was I??....oh yeah.......I'm giving a semi-educated guess that less than 1/2 of 1% of the local residents actually believe the myth. Those that do would definitely fall into the group of "NEW AGERS" that reside in any town. A friend refers to them as the "Pajama and Sandals Crowd." These folks are harmless, and in fact quite friendly. Most can be found hanging around our coffee shops "discussing" world events with friends, or browsing in the crystal shops.

A lot of excitement gets generated when weather conditions around our mountain create the famous Linticular Cloud formations......some believe these clouds (see Linticular and Loonies) actually are hiding E.T. Spaceships that have come down to cloak themselves in the clouds. I'm not sure why "They" would visit. There is some speculation that they are communicating with the Lemurians deep inside the mountain.....or maybe they are hoping to do a "Beam me up Scotty" maneuver...i.e. if the Lemurians have been successful in snatching a climber!

I have climbed our mountain twice and can personnaly attest that at no time was there any attempt to snatch me and suck me down a deep hole to be probed by Lemurians.

There you have it! You can Google "Mythical City of Telos Mt. Shasta," and you will be buried in information.

"MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU!"

The HAUNTED Light House!

2011-12-02T16:07:00.000-08:00

BATTERY POINT LIGHTHOUSE is located off the rugged Northern Calif. coastline at Cresent City. The mariners warning light is now automated.....warning ships of the dangerous St. George reef that lies 6 miles northwest of the Crescent City Harbor.

The light house structure sits atop a small island connected only at low tide by an isthmus that stretches about 150 yards from the mainland.

The light house is built in the Cape Cod style, with the tower located in the center of the dwelling. The Fresnel lens in the lantern room first illuminated the night sky at Crescent City on December 10, 1856.

If you are ever driving on the Northern California's beautiful coast line, stop in and hear the story of this famous structure. There is an excellant museum.

The light house dwelling has a fascinating history which includes the "presence" of ghosts. A paranormal research group that investigated the Battery Point lighthouse believes it is haunted not by one playful ghost, but by three: a child and two adult spectres! Some of the haunting activity has been reported by visitors taking a tour.....a touch on the shoulder, or a rocking chair moving back and forth on its own. Caretakers have reported having their slippers moved at night while asleep.

In 1964, the earthquake that struck Alaska sent a tidal wave tsunami twenty feet high toward Battery Point Light . Clarence and Peggy Coons were living as curators in the lighthouse when the waves arrived.

This is Peggy's account after the first tsunami wave had hit the island: "The water withdrew as if someone had pulled the plug. It receded a distance of three-quarters of a mile from the shore. We were looking down, as though from a high mountain, into a black abyss. The basin was sucked dry...in the distance another black wall of water was rapidly building. The mammoth wall of water came barreling towards us. It looked higher than our island. When it hit it was like a violent explosion......."

Eleven people in Crescent City were killed by the tsunami. Twenty nine city blocks were completly destroyed.

A visit to this part of the Pacific coast line will take your breath away. Also recommended would be to continue your driving tour up the Southern Oregon coast. In this writer's opinion it is the most breathtaking of the entire Pacific Coast.

Access to the light does depend upon the tide, thus making it important to call ahead (707) 464-3089.

You may enjoy The Lightkeeper's Daughter, by Colleen Coble.....a 2010 inspirational romance for adults!

For more photos of the beautiful Northern Calif, and Southern Oregon coastline, see our blog post: "Life is a Beach" http://tmac-traveltales.blogspot.com/2010/09/lifes-beach.html

***** Dublin, Ireland....some pub fun

2011-11-29T09:55:00.000-08:00

Some Irish Pub Fun

When your job requires travel to many foreign countries, the good news is that you will actually get to visit many places of real interest. I always found that it was meeting and getting to know the local people that actually created the lasting memories. I always tried to schedule at minimum one or two free days that would permit a little sightseeing. As a serious runner I tried to tour my host village, town, or city by jogging the back streets and out of the way points of interest. Touring in a taxi or a bus is just not as personal as organizing your own self-guided tour.

One such country that ranks at the top of my ‘favorite places’ list was Ireland. I found the Irish to be among the friendliest people I ever encountered. I had more than one association with the British Ministry of Defence. My business took me to England and Ireland in the 1980s during the ethno-political ‘Troubles’ between Great Britain and the Republic of Ireland. I was also doing some business with Guinness Brewery…a side benefit, of course, being able to sample their product.

The Jurys Hotel in Dublin was my choice of lodging, as it was near to the home of my agent John, and close to the downtown center. Together we struggled to check out many of the Irish Pubs in Dublin. I never quite acquired a taste for Guinness Beer, but it was not for lack of trying.

I arrived in the evening after a hop from London Heathrow airport on an Air Lingus flight. I quickly ducked inside a taxi, and leaned back for a quick shut-eye. It was not to be as the driver seemed anxious to start a conversation. I gave up on any idea of a quick nap, and commented as we entered the city "I don't think I have ever seen so many cars, and there seems to be zero parking spaces available." He said "Oh yeah, parking spaces are like gold in Dublin city center. The Mrs. and I were out for a walk the other evening, and she grabs my arm and says Sean...look, an empty parking space." "I said, what's the difference, we don't even own a car." "She says, I'll hold this space....you go out and buy one." I laughed, and was now revived.

The talkative taxi driver dropped me off at the Jurys, and after checking in, I dragged myself to the room and crashed until about 6:00 a.m. the next morning. Since this was my free day, I laced up my running shoes; gulped some strong coffee in the lobby café, and headed out the door. I had reintroduced myself to the doorman, and he actually remembered my name from the last trip. He waved a salute and said, “Have a good run Mr. McGhee, and stay outta the pubs.”

It was somewhat foggy, but the sun was burning through. Birds were chirping in the park near the hotel. A Blue Tit was flitting bush to bush, keeping up with me as I ran next to the wrought iron fence that enclosed this green park dividing the cobbled street. This tiny blue and yellow bird was also enjoying the morning sun.

I warmed up quickly in the first five minutes, and then started to enjoy the sights.

The first things the tourist will notice when visiting Dublin are the many brightly colored doors on the row houses. All colors of the rainbow. My agent once told me that after the death of the Queen, when Ireland was still under the control of England, orders were sent out that all doors be painted black. I guess the Irish rebelled and the doors ended up being painted the many bright colors. I wondered which story to believe as another was that the Irish wives got tired of their husbands going in the wrong houses when they came home drunk after an evening at the pub with their mates.

Shop owners were opening up their stores as I jogged through the downtown and toward the river Liffey. Exterior metal window security screens were rolling up to reveal the store’s goods on display. Shop owners greeted me with smiles and a ‘good morning.’

The run took me into a residential area. Milk bottles stood on porches; men were kissing wives goodbye as they headed off to work, and children carrying lunch pails were trudging off to school. Several women were sweeping their front door cement stoops. One sight that caught my attention was a group of young boys playing soccer…football… in the street. Maybe their school classes started later in the morning I thought. As I smiled and nodded to them, they began to surround me kicking the ball around and inviting me to join them. One red headed boy kicked the ball to me, and I luckily managed to return it. We all ran up and down the street and I pretended to know what I was doing.

Just then one of the doors opened and someone’s mother called to her son, “Sean, get back here and finish your breakfast.” One of the football boys standing near me looked up and said to me, “Come on and meet me mum.” He gave me a big smile. “You can have a cup of coffee with me.” He dragged me by the hand to a nearby stone cottage and introduced me to his mum. I apologized and told Sean’s mum, “I’m sorry, I was just on my morning jog, and ran into this gang of football hooligans.” I was not to get away so easily, and I was invited to come in and join them for breakfast. I politely turned down the sausage and beans, and said coffee would be just fine.

This was to be a highlight of my many years of travel, and one I would never forget. I had a small camera in my fanny pack and managed to shoot a picture of this group of friendly boys. It pops up now and then on my PC screen saver photos. It brings back pleasant memories of my stay in Dublin, and my interactions with the many friendly folks I met.

Little did I know that more excitement and fun memories awaited me that evening in the Jurys Hotel. My local agent, John, had made us a dinner reservation at the hotel. The special treat was that the Irish comedian Hal Roach was entertaining in the hotel’s small theater. The brochures at the concierge desk told me that Mr. Roach was the ‘Bob Hope’ of Ireland, and a national treasure. It sounded like a fun evening and one to which I looked forward.

Finishing my run, I walked the last one hundred yards to the hotel. I greeted the doorman with a small bow, and informed him that I had settled for hot coffee on my run as opposed to a beer in a pub. “I even played a little street football with some of the local lads.” He laughed and reminded me that, if I could make it, I was not to miss the Hal Roach show. “I was given a ticket, and plan to attend.” He said, “A big rain storm is brewing anyway, so staying in tonight is the smart thing.”

I showered, dressed and had a quiet lunch in the hotel. Distant thunder could be heard, and the buzz seemed to be about the coming storm with major lightning to boot. I briefly thought about our tour of a facility tomorrow, and hoped the storm would not squash it.

After crashing for an afternoon nap I awoke and began a review of all my notes regarding our upcoming meetings. The bedside phone rang. My agent John said, “Meet me in the bar about five for a cocktail before our dinner and the show.” We need to put a strict limit on the Guinness so we will be wide awake and know what in the bloody hell we are laughing at.”

After some serious conversation in the pub over a beer, I thought, jeez I have to knock off the beer. We headed into the theater for our seats. Hal Roach walked out on stage…a small man with large, black horned rim glasses. He greeting us all and said, “A horse walks into a bar, and the bartender says ‘why such a long face?’” I wished I had a recorder so I could remember all of the ‘guy walks into a bar jokes’. I can truthfully say that the comedian exceeded his advance billing. I never laughed so hard, and actually began to get a stitch in my side.

Outside the storm had arrived, and the thunder and lightning started to override our funny showman. Just as it seemed our entertainment was to conclude, a thunderously loud clap of thunder sounded and all the lights went out. It took only seconds for the backup battery powered emergency lights to pop on here and there. Hal Roach then shouted to his audience of about sixty people, “The show is concluded ladies and gentlemen, and I am treating all to a beverage of your choice in the bar.”

We all now crowded into the now candle lit hotel pub where we found a team of touring Rugby players. Their flight out had been cancelled and they were making the best of the layover. These guys were huge, and it was evident from their boisterous behavior that they were a few beers ahead of all of us. Some musicians were providing music.

The lightning flashed and the candle illuminated bar room lit up for a second, and dozens of faces turned toward the windows showed bright for an instant. The rain was coming down in sheets, and power was trying to come back on as I heard the start up hum of a generator.

A glance out at the street showed large puddles forming. The three bartenders hustled to take orders, and finally gave up and brought large pitchers of beer and mugs out to all the tables. It was now about 9:00 pm. A young bellman from the hotel climbed up on a chair and asked for everyone’s attention. He shouted over the din, “Ladies and gentlemen. As you may have deduced the elevators are not operating.” A chorus of boos echoed in the room, but our messenger continued. “Not to worry as our Mr. Roach has conferred with our young football gentlemen. For all you ladies wishing to retire to your room, each will be carried up the stairs by one of our young, strong athletes.” Everyone laughed, but I could see hands going up from some of the ladies, and the Rugby players kept true to their pledge and began hoisting women into their arms. Much giggling and laughing now was drowning out the rumbles of the storm. At least six of these large lads made their way to the stairs each carrying a lady guest.

John and I watched the fun as we finished our beer. John then jumped up and said, “My friend from America would like to take Mr. Roach up on this generous offer. His room is on the top floor. I could have crawled into a hole, but one of the larger lads walked up, set his beer down on a nearby table, and said, “OK Yank, are ya ready?” Not wanting to appear a ‘stick in the mud,’ I nodded. In the blink of an eye I was hoisted in the air, and in the fireman's carry, I was being hauled out of the bar to my room. John was roaring with laughter clinking beer mugs with a few of the Rugby players, and shouted, “Hey Terry….a potato walks into a bar…all eyes were on him…good night, I’ll see you in the morning.” I yelled to my ‘mount,’ “Let’s get out of here, I can’t take any more.” I thought, ‘This could only happen in Ireland right?’

Lesson Learned

• Make a point to tour your temporary new foreign neighborhood, and try to meet some of the local folks. You may never pass this way again. I guarantee these will be the memories that stick with you long after you are winging your way to your next business meeting.

*****Lenticulars and Loonies

2011-11-20T15:27:00.000-08:00

It is said that large isolated mountains, throughout the world, attract unusual weather phenomena......AND unusual folks (substitute, odd, weird, loony, wackos, dreamers, kooks, etc.)

(See also "THEY'RE BAAAAAAAAACK")

Here are two photos of our mountain on a normal sunny day with no significant cloud formations.

These lone mountains include Fuji, Rainier, Hood, Kilimanjaro, and others. Heading the list of alleged mystic and sacred places is our own Mount Shasta. One can go on-line and Google sources that would keep you reading for months.

Mt. Shasta sits as part of the Cascade Range, and is 14,162 feet above sea level, 45 miles from the southern Oregon border. Every day brings a different view of the peak of this majestic mountain, with the wind and clouds teaming up to bring "oohs and aahs" from the visiting tourists. I even check each morning and evening to see just what visual treat awaits a glance at the top.

The single most unusual weather-caused condition is the combination of wind, and moisture to form what are called Lenticular Cloud formations. The odd looking formations take different shapes sometimes directly over the mountain peak, and sometimes off to the side, depending on the wind and moisture content in the air above the mountain. These distinctive looking formations may look like a giant flying saucer, or lopsided stacks of pancakes. The moist air is forced into a wave pattern, generating what is known as a wave cloud. They sometimes take the shape of strings of flat discs spreading out from the leeward side of the mountain peak.

Here are some of my own photos, along with those taken by others.

The Linticular cloud formations can be most beautiful at sunrise.

California Interstate Highway 5 runs only a few miles from the base of the mountain, and dozens of cars and huge 18 wheel trucks can be seen pulled over to the side of the road snapping photos of the strange sight.

One particular moonlit evening we were sitting on our deck under the tall pines, when we noticed it suddenly growing darker. I looked up, grabbed the camera and tripod and took this photo of a Lenticular cloud that had moved off of the peak and momentarily blocked out our bright moon.

If a stranger suddenly found themselves plopped down in Mount Shasta, they would have believed that a space ship sat hovering over our town. I'll bet some of the "New Agers" in town expected to witness space aliens rappelling down to snatch up a few citizens for examination.

One can now see why these very eerie formations might serve as a catalyst that encourage the belief for some that the mountain holds magical powers. That those ancient stories passed from generation to generation of strange creatures living inside the mountain just might be true.

You can now be introduced to the city of Telos, or Lemuria that is home to the Lemurians living inside the mountain moving about in tunnels (lava tubes?). The legend has it that there is a secret opening high on the side of the mountain that will occasionally allow the Lemurians to exit and prance about with bright flashing lights that many claim to have seen. I have actually heard whispered conversations in our coffee shops about these inhabitants of our mountain. I believe that most of these "believers" belong in a padded room somewhere remote from civilization.......well not really, but for sure they should not be allowed to vote or drive a vehicle!

The story is too convoluted to tell, but anyone can search the web to "discover" the history about the continent of Lemuria that sank into the sea 12,000 years ago due to a volcanic eruption of serious magnitude. How the Lemurians were transported from below the surface of the ocean to Mount Shasta is still a "mystery." The Lemurians' possess their power (not sure what this is) from ancient crystals brought to Mt. Shasta when "they fled their home of Lemuria."

Here is one depiction of what a Lemurian might look like.....use your imagination.

I have climbed our mountain and found no evidence of a hidden "door."

If you are a NEW AGE enthusiast I am confident that you can shed more light on the mystery of Mt. Shasta. Let's hear from you.

Here is a 2009 article written for our local newspapers about the legend of JC Brown, who in 1904, is said to have found the entrance to an eleven mile tunnel leading under Mt. Shasta to the lost civilization of Lemuria. It will add to the mystic while reading this interesting article if you hum the tune to Rod Serling's TWILIGHT ZONE!!

http://www.mtshastanews.com/news/x1885878418/Unearthing-Mt-Shasta-s-legends

Or, if you have a few minutes, you could read this short story of the "MAGIC MOUNTAIN," and learn "straight from the horse's mouth" about the Lemurians who speak their own language, but also excellant English with a slight British Accent! Great, now let's blame our cousins accross the pond......sheesh!

https://mslpublishing.com/about-mt-shasta.htm

AND last, but certainly not least, you can actually "book" a Shamanic Spiritual Retreat to visit Lumuria. Watch these U-Tube video testimonies from folks who say they have experienced the power, energy and vibrations of the vortexes...."claim your personal power back......" Uh.....if anyone takes this trip, call and let me know how it went.

http://www.sacredvoyages.com/mountshasta.html

Lemuria - The Lost Continent of The Pacific - The Mystery People of Mt. Shasta (Rosicrucian Library, Volume XII)

*** Scare in Alaska...NOT a Grizzly!

2011-11-18T21:03:00.000-08:00

SOME PAIN...and more than a little embarrassment

Anchorage Alaska: February, minus six degrees F. I was in our northern most state booked into in a downtown Anchorage hotel. Alaska Air had carried me to this frigid climate because I had no choice in the trip timing and scheduling. The Federal Bureau of Prisons…our customer… was at a specific stage of construction of a new Federal prison just outside of town, and needed to meet with several vendors. The Feds had a team of construction engineers and FBOP personnel on site and needed our inspection of the perimeter exterior double fence installation. I had given rough estimate months earlier on estimated costs of having our system installed. It was now time for final commitments.

The security systems manufacturer of the head end guard system monitoring equipment was on site as well, and we needed to sit down with BOP security managers who were writing detailed specifications for this security system. Precise interfacing with the two systems needed to be defined.

Being a California guy, I was not used to this freezing temperature, and for sure did not have the right clothing for a walk around this site on this cold, gray, icy, windy morning. I had layered up with clothing, and met my driver contact in front of the hotel. He looked at my cowboy boots, flimsy raincoat and baseball cap. He commented that they, “Just might not cut it in this snow and ice.”

We arrived at the almost finished prison complex, and hustled into the building for our pre-inspection meeting. My host commented that, “The wind chill we be around 20 degrees below zero today. I’ll scrounge up a heavy parka for you, but your boots will have to make do. Maybe I can find an extra pair of heavy socks.” This author now notes to the reader that this was an early experience with these kinds of low temps. I learned a significant lesson about proper dress, and was prepared for subsequent trips to Helsinki, Stockholm, Zurich, St. Petersburg, Russia and other frigid cities in the winter months.

We concluded our meeting and made our way outside to climb into a Chevy Suburban for the drive-walk around the exterior of the facility. The wind had picked up some, and blowing snow almost made for a white out. Someone was looking out for me as our driver said that we would only have to get out two or three times to inspect certain potentially difficult locations. “This nasty weather won’t allow us to do a walk-around this morning.” “Thank you Lord” I whispered to no one in particular.

We headed back to the prison main building to once again have a quick summary conference on our findings. As we broke up this meeting, my friend …one of the contractor personnel, said, “Hey Terry…you up for a quick run?” We had earlier discussed our mutually shared passion for running, and we agreed to try and work one in before I flew home. I said, “Sounds like a plan. I brought my cold weather running gear, so no problem.”

Early the next morning my friend joined me in the hotel lobby for a cup of coffee. He said, “I hope you remembered to put on layers”. I replied, “I have heavy wool gloves and watchman’s cap; silk baklava, and silk long johns under my nylon tights.” He frowned slightly in disapproval as I was sure he thought I was improperly dressed. We finished up the java, and began putting on these extra cold weather outer garments. As a serious runner I learned that it is always wise to run with a partner especially when running in such hostile weather.

“We will start out at a slow jog, as you get a feeling for the roads. They have been graveled and salted, but still smart to take it slow. I want to take you on a tour through Anchorage.” We started off together, and immediately the wind and lightly blowing snow was stinging my upper face. I wished I had a second layer of nylon to keep out the penetrating wind. From experience I also knew that the body quickly warms up when running, so there was no real danger of getting too cold...I thought. As long as one did not stop, the body maintained a comfortable temp. Today, however, the wind was blowing and it seemed most of our hour long run was facing into a gale.

We ran past the historic site of the great Alaska earthquake of March 1964. I could see the results of the tremendous destructive force caused by this the second largest earthquake of the 20th Century. It was the largest ever recorded in the Northern Hemisphere with a magnitude of 9.2 on the seismic scale. The quake and resulting Tsunami killed one hundred twenty five people and caused three hundred eleven million dollars worth of damage.

As we headed back to the hotel I noted that the front of my legs was stinging some, and I did not recall ever feeling this cold in my extremities during a run. We finished at the hotel and entered the warm lobby feeling energized. Other guests looked at us like we were crazy as we brushed the frost from our bodies. I said, “Thanks for the company and the great tour of town. I’ll see you in about an hour on site.” I made my way to the elevators still feeling the stinging and slight numbness in my thighs and other areas down in the groin region.

I quickly undressed looking forward to a warm shower. My friend warned me about jumping into a real hot shower, and told me to make sure the water was only luke warm. I followed the advice of my Anchorage friend, and made certain the water was not too hot. I climbed in and immediately felt much better. in my lower extremities, and my member felt as if it were on fire. I massaged my legs and arms until I had some feeling return. I felt a slight burning We had consumed almost two plastic bottles of water we carried on the run. I had to pee like a race horse about now. The simple act was a success, so my worry level dropped a notch.

There was still some numbing and burning, and for the first time I was somewhat concerned. I called my friend and told him, “I think I might have some serious frost bite. I’ve taken a warm shower and my Johnson is still a little numb.” He told me, “Not so unusual, but I’ll pick you up and we can stop by my doctor and have him take a look.” On the drive from the hotel to the doctor’s office, my thoughts were filled with images I had from movies of black frost bitten fingers and toes being amputated from people that had been caught in similar weather. I was, thankfully, quite certain that no part of my anatomy had turned black….well it was was sort of a gray color.

You can now imagine my embarrassment as I explained my condition to the young lady at the waiting room window at the doc’s office. She acted like it was quite a common thing. I had to whisper to keep the room full of patients from learning of my injury. I looked at my friend, and he said, “I know a little about this, and from what you tell me, you don’t have serious frost bite. Don’t worry, the doc is a good friend, and he’ll fix you up.” I whispered that, “hey, at least I could urinate so it can’t be too serious right?”

The smile on the doctor’s face when he entered the patient waiting room was somewhat reassuring. At least he wasn’t carrying a scalpel and bandages. I wondered at just how much my friend had told him when he called to make the appointment. After his examination he smiled and declared, “You are fortunate. You are suffering from a minor case of penile frostbite…not an uncommon sports injury with runners in cold climates. I won’t have to amputate. You are lucky that the duration was only minutes and not hours.” His smile and laugh now assured me that all was well with ‘Mr. J.’ I felt a tremendous relief and let out a deep breath.

He gave me a sample of some ointment, and told me that there will be some discoloration, but full feeling will return. He said, “You will have some minor epidermis skin loss.” I had been running for twelve years or so and never had any kind of a sports injury, and wondered what I would tell my running friends…or others… who asked if I ever had one. I made the decision right then and there that I would lie about this ‘frozen pecker’ runner’s incident.

Less than two weeks after I had returned home, I received a small package in the mail. My running friend from Anchorage had sent me a gift. Opening the box, I unwrapped the tissue paper, and lifted up…no, not what you think… what appeared to be a small cloth garment. Closer inspection confirmed what I suspected: A fur-lined jock strap hung from my fingers. A handwritten note in the box simply said: ‘Use it or lose it.’ I thought this more of a joke, but later on I learned that this piece of "equipment" was essential gear for runners in cold climates.

Lessons learned

• The travel notes in my notebook would record this trip as another of the memorable ones. I obviously had to take more caution when I engaged in my running hobby during winter. Packing the proper clothing…in any weather… will make a long business trip more enjoyable.

1864: FIRST SUBMARINE TO.......!

2011-11-16T16:30:00.000-08:00

This week as I reviewed the on-line world news on my office laptop, a special headline grabbed my attention: "Confederate Submarine Upright For The First Time In 150 Years." I read further...... "The first submarine in history to sink an enemy warship is upright for the first time in almost 150 years, revealing a side of its hull not seen since it sank off the So. Carolina coast during the Civil War."

In 2003 I was in Charleston South Carolina on business. The United States Naval electronic technical center was located here, and they were a valued customer to my company.

I was in my hotel room reviewing some notes of a presentation I was to make the next day. Breakfast in my room was a time to prepare for the business day, read the local newspaper to catch up on "events." A hotel room brochure noted that a famous historic submarine, just recovered, used by the Confederate military to sink a Union ship positioned in Charleston Harbor as part of the naval blockade of the city, was now available for public viewing.

I had read some history of this tragic war between the NORTH and the SOUTH, but had never known about this piece of history involving a submarine. I drove to the large Naval warehouse, paid my admission fee, and was escorted to a large fresh water tank. The H. L. HUNLEY was submerged, carefully cradled awaiting the minute examination by salvage experts.

I was mesmerized for more than an hour as I read about the Hunley's construction, and the urgent rush to get her commissioned to fight the North. The Confederate Army had its back to the wall of defeat, and it was hoped that breaking the Union harbor blockade would allow the South to keep on fighting.

Twenty one crewman were lost during her very short career. Visitors can view personal items carried by some of the crew. A single coin was found that told its own story of the crewman, and revealed his past role in the Civil War fighting.

The Hunley was outfitted with a long spar protruding from the bow. A keg of explosives was rigged near the end of the spar. The Hunley was propelled by a crew of eight; seven to turn the simple hand-cranked propeller propulsion system, and one to navigate its course.

On the night of February 17, 1864, the Hunley steered toward the Union ship USS Housatonic that was on harbor blockade duty. The pointed spar was embedded in the hull of the ship. The Hunley backed away and then "allegedly" triggered the explosives sitting just inches from hull. Stories from witnesses on the Housatonic reported that the explosion was triggered by the Housatonic crew firing at the submarine and hitting the torpedo explosive package. The truth probably will never be known.

The Hunley did not return to its port as was the plan. It sank and was never seen again.

The story is a fascinating one. Those interested should Google Confederate Submarine H. L. Hunley. I guarantee that those interested in this unusual historic event will find hours of reading.

***Snow Bound?

2011-11-12T15:00:00.000-08:00

Saturday, Nov 27, 2010. "Rats!!"....This morning we awoke to 5 more inches of snow on top of the 18 inches we received a few days ago. The temp has stayed below freezing so none has melted.

I think I'll wait awhile before I shovel off the hot tub for a soak.

Eleven o'clock a.m.......it has stopped snowing, but our roads won't be plowed for an hour or two.

Speaking of snowbound......it was 4 years ago in January when I was forced to make a decision about staying in my SUV during a major storm, or trying to snowshoe 8 miles to a plowed road with some local traffic.

One of our most picturesque alpine lakes is Castle lake which is at the 5400 ft. elevation, and about 13 miles from our house. Castle is a deep, 47 acre lake sitting in an old glacial bowl. One end is open where the access road terminates, and there is a beautiful view of Mount Shasta. It is a beautiful hiking area in the summer, and winter attracts the snow shoe hikers, and the extreme ski crowd. The skiers hike up the steep sides and then fly down to the frozen lake level.....whew!! no thanks! I have watched them and I held my breath during the entire fast, zig-zag slalom descent.

The lake is a beautiful place, and the summer draws crowds of picnicers, hikers, and swimmers. In June the Red Columbine blooms all around the lake.

We had had a major snow storm back then, but the road to Castle had been plowed . There is a tiny parking area at the turnaround point, so I decided to drive up early to grab a space, and to get in a snow shoe trek across the lake, and up over the top of the rim and back down in sort of a "C" shaped route. The skies were cloudy, but the forecast was for just a light snow over the next 8 hours.

I stuffed a small back pack with 2 bottles of water, energy bars, and heavy sweater. The snow shoes checked out ok, and I grabbed a pair of ski poles to assist with the uphill part of the climb. I shoved the cell phone in my pocket, but doubted I would get a signal.

There was only one car in the small lot, and after I geared up, I hiked out to the middle of the lake where two guys were ice hole fishing. They proudly showed me their catch of trout as I shuffled up to their makeshift camp.

I told them where I was going, and estimated time of arrival on the opposite side of the lake, not far from their ice hole.

I waved goodbye, and crossed the lake to the east side and began the hike over the upper rim. There was a light breeze, and the sky began to darken as I neared the top.

It began to lightly snow as I plunged onward to the downhill route to get back to the lake. Within 10 minutes it began to snow harder. I glanced down to the lake and saw the ice fishermen begin to pack up their stuff.

The wind now started to blow with heavier snow, and I could no longer see my fisherman buddies. "Crap," I said to myself.....I knew I had at least another hour to hike before reaching my car. I began to consider my options if the car was snowed in. I could wait out the storm in the back of the SUV. I had water, food, and plenty of warm clothes plus there was a down comforter in the trunk.

If the snow had stopped and I had visibility, I could hike the 8 miles back down to the plowed road where I knew I would have a mobile phone signal. The road, while deep in snow, would be clearly marked.

I pulled on a silk balaclava to protect my face as the temp had started to drop and the wind had picked up. There was no getting lost as I could occasionally see the lake, and Mt. Shasta loomed huge in the distance to the north-east.

I finally arrived at the parking lot with my fingers crossed. It was still snowing lightly, but the sun was beginning to shine......a good sign the storm is passing? I quickly unloaded my gear, and cranked up the engine, and began to creep forward in a low gear. "Crap," ....(my favorite expression at times of frustration).........I was definitely stuck, and there were no other cars in the lot.

I now had an easy decision.....get back into the snow shoes, and start the trek down the road. The going was fairly easy, and the downhill grade helped. There was a fresh 6 inches of snow on the road, but I made it all the way down, and called my wife to rescue me. Thirty minutes later I was back at our house in front of the wood stove with a cup of coffee. It had started snowing again, and the temp was about 28 degrees.

I immediately called the AAA towing service to get their input on getting back to my car. The loud laughter on the other end of the line forced me to pull the phone away from my ear. I was told that 2 more storms were due to track through Mt. Shasta after this current one.

Long story short, I met the tow truck driver in their largest rig 5 days later, and we began the rough ride back to the Castle Lake parking lot. It took more than an hour as he would stop to push large piles off to the side. The SUV sat lonely in the lot and seemed none the worse for the storms.

We both pitched in with snow shovels to dig out the car. Another 2 feet of snow had fallen. The car started, and after we were sure it was OK, I began to follow the large plow truck down the mountain.

***** Zany In Zagreb!...MOST EMBARASSING MOMENTS!

2011-11-05T11:43:00.000-07:00

Zany In Zagreb
The embarassing moments of travel!

This trip...by far...convinced me (well almost) that Murphy's Law just might have some truth to it!!
After a day filled with mishap after mishap, I concluded that I probably had used up my share of embarassing travel moments in my lifetime!

STICKING ONE’S FOOT IN ONES MOUTH - ZANY IN ZAGREB

Today the country we know as Croatia…formerly Yugoslavia, is a growing, post-Glasnost country. Dubrovnik on the Adriatic Sea is a beautiful resort city heavily visited by thousands of tourists. If the world traveler wants to visit this part of the world, then Dubrovnik is a must see.

When I visited on business in the early 1980s, Zagreb was a busy industrial city in Yugoslavia where we were beginning to do business through a very congenial business man named Juraslov.

We were inspecting various government and industrial sites that wanted to investigate electronic perimeter security because of a growing fear of criminals now being able to move more freely between countries in this section of the world. Everyone, it seemed, was anticipating a rise in crime. During my later visits the threat seemed especially high after the collapse of the Soviet Union.

Juraslov was a courteous host and offered to take me to a basketball game in Zagreb. Those of you who follow the sport of basketball will recall that Yugoslavia was a world power, and their team ranked right behind the USA and the Soviet Union at the time. Yugoslavia won an Olympic gold medal and many world basketball championships in previous years. Those who follow basketball and the L.A. Lakers will recall the aggressive play of former Yugoslav player Vlady Divac.

Needless to say basketball was hugely popular in Yugoslavia. Juraslov was to pick me up at my hotel. He said, “I want you to meet my fiancée and also my business partner.” After attending the game we were to have dinner at one of his favorite restaurants said to be a choice by their former head of state, Josip Tito.

Juraslav warned me, in an apologetic tone, that the cars in Yugoslavia still were very bad, and seemed to be apologizing in advance for our evening’s transportation. “Our business growth plans include the purchase of an American or European sedan so that we can escort our foreign business partners in more comfort.” Many of you world-traveled readers most likely have heard some of the ‘Yugo automobile jokes:’ Why does the Yugo have such large rear hatch back window defrost heating elements? Answer: to keep your hands warm while pushing the car in winter during the frequent breakdowns. Also a favorite: What do you have when you have a soccer ball on the rear seat? Answer: ‘a whistle’….and so it goes.

Waiting in the lobby of my hotel, I recognized Juraslov arriving in a very small …and quite ugly… hatch back car. It kind of looked like a mini station wagon. This obviously was the Yugo held in much scorn by Yugoslavs. Juraslov entered the lobby and escorted me to the car where he introduced his business partner sitting in the front seat, and his fiancée sitting in the right rear passenger seat. We both climbed in the car and proceeded to bounce and rattle noisily down the road to the basketball arena.

I looked for a rear seat belt, but found none. Sitting in the rear seat was clearly safer than the front I thought. I could hear and feel the air whistling in the poorly sealed passenger compartment. When I pressed my left elbow against the door panel, it compressed so that I was in contact with the outer skin of this pile of tin. ‘Yikes,’ it appeared as if I could create an indentation if I poked hard with a finger. The sooner I could exit this ‘death trap’, the better. I asked Juraslov, “How far to the game?” He told me, “only about ten minutes.” Thankful that my exposure to certain death from an accident would only be brief, I hunched down in the seat, and put my knees together braced against the back of the front seat.

I then decided to start a conversation with Juraslov’s girl friend, and fiancée. I was told she spoke some English. Wanting to be cordial, I said, “Good evening, your hair style is quite attractive.” It looked as if an entire can of hair spray had been used to keep it upright. At the time I recalled the ‘beehive’ dos of times earlier in the USA. Perhaps they were all the rage in Yugoslavia. She smiled and said, “Thank you” as she patted the hair piece. I thought about the fan that would be sitting behind this mountain of hair at the basketball game.

Juraslov was telling me that we would be arriving early so we could get good seats at this very popular sporting event, and also to locate the guy he had hired to watch his car while we were inside the sports arena. I had to suppress a smile as I wondered why a Yugo had to be ‘guarded’, but then I thought that the Yugo was the single most popular vehicle I had seen while on my visit, and supposed car thieves would steal
whatever was available. It seemed to me that four strong guys could just pick it up and walk away.

The car came to a rattling halt with brakes squealing. Juraslov told us, “Remain with the car, I will find our guard.” I wanted to get out of my rear passenger left seat quickly, and hurry around to open the door for Juraslov’s fiancée…being the polite gentlemen I was. She, however unseen by me, began scooting across the seat to exit after me through the same door. Before I could stop, I slammed the door and it almost hit her in the face. The entire rear window glass shattered immediately, and showered this lady with safety glass. I reopened the door spouting many apologies, and said, “I’m so very sorry, are you hurt?” Her nose and face did not appear to be flattened and I could see no blood. I felt a moment of relief. The safety glass pieces had found her hair piece a natural landing spot, and hundreds of pieces of glass were imbedded in her bee hive do.

She began to swear loudly as I tried in vain to help her pick out the glass from her hair. Juraslov’s partner rushed around to assist. She batted both our hands away and stalked to the rear of the car as a small crowd had gathered around to watch this incident obviously caused by yours truly.

Juraslov arrived on the scene and there was much heated shouting about the whole situation. I believe I was fortunate in not understanding a single word, although I’m pretty sure I detected a few swear words that must be universal. He tried to calm down the fiancée, but without much success. “Let me help you” he said. He then, in obvious frustration, grabbed the hair piece and jerked it off the head of his now very angry lady friend. I heard several, “Oh Shits,” from the crowd. He shook the wig to dislodge the glass. The lady, now with seemingly no hair at all…was she actually bald?...stomped off to escape her embarrassment. How could she be more embarrassed than I was I thought. Jeez, what a klutz! The car guard drove off in the Yugo to a secret place of safety, broken window and all, and Juraslov told me we had to get inside to get a seat. All three of us hurried into the arena as I wondered what would happen to the nice lady with a wig full of glass.

Under the circumstances watching…and enjoying… the basketball game was quite difficult….do ya think? Juraslov ordered beers for us, and we quietly sat in our seats. I asked what would become of his lady friend, and he just shrugged, and said, “I will work things out tomorrow.” I guess I assumed that she had money for a taxi, or lived close by. Juraslov’s partner glanced at me as we took our seat, and we both tried hard, but failed to stifle a laugh. ‘Way to go Terry’ was my quiet self-admonishment. I thought quickly of Earl Nightingale’s book, ‘How To Win Friends and Influence People.’ I hoped…ok ‘prayed’… that my new agent realized that this could have happened to anyone. Even to this klutzy American seated next to him.

The only good news so far this evening was that the local team won the game. Juraslov had consumed a few beers at the game, and I suggested that his partner drive us to the restaurant. He retrieved the car from the guard, and noted that there had been no attempts to steal the vehicle. I quietly thought ‘thank God’ to myself.

The restaurant was very old and crowded as we made our way to our table following our waiter who held the menus. I noticed that everyone in Yugoslavia seemed to eat far too much meat and huge portions at that. If I consumed dinners of this size on a regular basis, I could kiss my running fitness goodbye. Juraslov ordered several bottles of red wine which he began to consume in great quantities as he complained about women’s personalities in general, and that perhaps he needed to rethink the future he might now not have with this current girl friend and fiancé. I tried to inject some humor into what had become a rather morose atmosphere at what was supposed to be a fun business get together discussing potential business growth for their new company. I said, “In America one might comment after such an embarrassing incident: ‘well I suppose this means that I am no longer on her best friends list.’” The partner cracked up with laughter, but I generated only a grin from Juraslov. I then mentally made myself a promise to in future, ‘engage brain before opening mouth.’

The dinner went slightly better after this, but there was a lot of wine being consumed. Principal now among my thoughts was that ‘I’m not driving anywhere with these guys tonight.’ A now seriously inebriated Juraslov began to doze off at the table. His partner paid the bill, and told me that he lived in the opposite direction of my hotel and Juraslov’s apartment. He had the keys to the Yugo, and would drive it to his house. “Not to worry…I asked our waiter to call a taxi for you and Juraslov.” I told him thanks for the fun and exciting evening, and said I would see him in the morning.

I failed to mention that this was winter in Zagreb, and while not a lot of snow, the streets and sidewalks were slick with ice. We all had some black coffee and proceeded to the front of the restaurant. A restaurant employee helped us get Juraslov into the taxi. The restaurant was on a hill and as our taxi began to pull away from the curb, it started to slide sideways down the hill. We were hopelessly in free fall before our driver skillfully steered the Yugo into a curb. Juraslov was still barely conscious, and did not get to enjoy the thrill of this near death experience. I said to the driver, “Please stay with my friend. I will go back to the restaurant and get assistance.” I’m quite certain he did not understand a word I said, but he nodded as I pointed back at the restaurant and made kind of a steering wheel movement with my hands. Juraslov’s partner said he was going to stay awhile and finish the wine. I wondered to myself if either of them would be able to make the morning business meeting we had planned.

After I explained our situation he chatted with the restaurant manager. He then told me to just wait a few minutes, “I have summoned a large truck for safer transportation to your hotel.” While we waited I declined another glass of wine. What appeared to be a large garbage truck soon pulled up to the restaurant. It could be heard coming before we could see it. We both stood at the curb clapping our gloved hands, and stamping our feet to stay warm. We waved our arms to tell the driver of the truck that we were his intended passengers.

I pointed where the stranded taxi was and the truck driver motioned for me to get in. I bid goodnight to the partner and we lumbered down the icy street the two blocks to the taxi. The taxi driver gave the truck driver information about my hotel, and I assume Juraslov’s address. I helped Juraslov up into the front seat and we proceeded to roar down the road. ….a little too fast in my opinion. As the driver turned to enter the lobby drop off area we hit some ice. The Intercontinental hotel had…like most hotels… placed large concrete planters in places that would stop any would be vehicle bombers from blasting directly into the lobby.

The truck started to slide….I grabbed the door handle and braced my feet….the driver stiffened his arms on the steering wheel and hit the brakes…….we slammed into the concrete planter and came to a sudden stop. The problem was Juroslav did not stop…he traveled an additional one half of a second. There were no seat belts in the old truck. He launched at a thirty degree angle and ended up on the very large dash board.

JEEZ I thought....in the instant of panic, no one thought to try and secure our sleeping friend. Juroslav was still passed out at the moment of impact. This proved to be lucky as all I could see was a small cut on his forehead. He now being wide awake looked around and murmured “where are we?”

We unloaded our injured friend at the lobby entrance and had him take a seat inside the door. I asked that the hotel doctor be called to examine the victim with the bleeding head wound. Long story short: the doc found no broken bones. He cleaned the cut and bandaged it. I gave the truck driver a good tip and told him he could now leave.

The doctor declared his patient was ok, and did not need to visit the hospital. I handed Juroslav a business card and said, “write down your apartment address and a hotel driver will take you home.” I slipped the waiting driver about ten dollars and reminded him to drive carefully.

I said goodbye and prayed that our morning meeting was still on schedule….I hollered after Juroslav: “It’s ok if our meeting is late……call me in the morning if you are up to it.”

Heaving a big sigh, I dug my travel notes book out of my briefcase and headed for the bar. “Bartender….pour me something stiff!”

Lesson learned:

• interacting on a personal level with customers is necessary, and to decline their generosity might end up doing more harm than good. After all it is the ‘thought’ that matters.

• People’s sense of humor may vary from yours. Think before speaking especially when telling a joke.

Bye, Bye Yugo. I saw a 2008 news clip that the much maligned Yugo was no longer in production. The car was just not cutting it with more sophisticated buyers. Would you buy a car that could have its metal sides punctured by a pencil?

*** Bohemia...A REAL PLACE!

2011-11-04T15:26:00.000-07:00

OK....let's admit it....when most of us hear the word Bohemian we think maybe of the Haight Ashbury, and the hippies of fifties San Francisco. I guess a Bohemian is someone who leads a pretty casual, and laid-back lifestyle. I and most of my friends would refer to these people as "bums."

But on one of my few visits to Prague, Czech Republic, I found out that Bohemia is part of the southern area of this country. In fact it dates to the 13th century, and has been restored to its midieval look. I was invited to visit this area, and the photographer's dream village of Cesky Krumlov.

We jumped in the small tour bus and headed about 1 hour (or so) south. We arrived at a stunning site. A huge castle and old tile-roof buildings on a rushing river.

While I did not see any gypsies, for which this ancient town once was known, I did see hundreds of tourist swarming the tiny, cobbled streets.

It was easy to find a great lunch place at the town square. We sat for some time just people watching.
This is definitely a spot you must visit if you have Prague scheduled on your European tour.

*****Beauty is a Beach...

2011-11-01T12:34:00.000-07:00

My favorite sounds are "Rain", Leaves "rustling" in a breeze, "Stillness" in a snow covered forest, and the "Ocean Waves" on a deserted beach!

Our family has always been thankful that we are lucky enough to live in California, and can enjoy the mountains, desert, and the Pacific Ocean beaches. As we have retired to the mountains, there is still a driving urge to get in our "beach fix" each year if we can swing it. We fell in love with the northern California, and southern Oregon coast line.

We try and find a beach house rental that will take our doggies as they enjoy this get-away as much as we do.

A lot of the fun is in the planning. Once we have secured a house rental on the beach, the task of "list making" begins. What will we need that might not be offered at our beach abode. We have never had much trouble in finding a place that will take our dogs. As more than one landlord has told us: "We have never had a pooch steal from our house yet....all are welcome!"

If there are new places to explore by back road, we will hook up the small flat bed trailer and haul the Piaggio Vespa motor scooter with us. Nothing like a ride above the cliffs with the sea breeze in the face, and the vast expansion of the Pacific spread out to the horizon.

A long quiet walk on a lonely beach, I believe, is the best tranquilizer in existence when one wants to get away from the hustle and bustle of a busy business life.

The weather is very unpredictable, so it is often necessary to bundle up on the windy and foggy coast of the Pacific Northwest. Sitting with a cup of coffee or glass of wine on a chilly ocean facing deck, watching the sun go down can lull one to sleep.

While a remote beach can be quite barren, it is teeming with life if one seeks to find it.

We hope you enjoy these pictures...all taken on the So. Oregon Coast from Newport south to the No. Cal. coast at Mendocino.

Let us know if you would like to see more photos in the "Travel Tales" Blog.....thanks!

The abundance of bird life is always fascinating to yours truly.

The dogs seemed to get a second wind when we visit the ocean. It seems the wide open space energizes them. Our old Yellow Lab Murphee would actually break out into long runs before collapsing in the sand, and rolling on his back expecting a tummy rub.

Buster was in doggie heaven when he found both a tide pool AND a stick.

There is one small seaside town that has a first class ocean aquarium. The Jelly fish were mysterious and intriguing.

I leave you now with scenes where the Pacific ocean meets the spectacular coast of southernOregon.

This juvenile Elephant Seal became stranded away from Mom...the beach patrol wild life folks came to the rescue and escorted the little guy back to his Mom!

*****Backyard Birds of Mt. Shasta

2011-10-31T16:12:00.000-07:00

It wasn't until we moved to the mountains of Northern California that we became so aware of the birds around us. It was impossible not to notice the many species that frequented our backyard Pine and Cypress tree forest. I guess we could be called "Birders"....we were acquiring a keen interest in studying these interesting "friends." Several bird books are handy around the house, and a table on our rear deck. It is a fun hobby, especially when we are on the road to visit new places in our Western States.

I also keep a pair of binoculars on top of my upstairs desk, and one on the back deck. So many times during the spring through fall seasons, I glance up from a work project.....snatch the binocs and peer out at the bird that may be a rare visitor to our forest. A new species gets a note in the bird book with date seen.

The most frequent visitor is the Stellar Jay.....and the noisiest! This Jay is fairly aggressive, and during the nesting season, are constantly teaming up on the larger Crows that just come to town for a meal....driving them off to greener pastures elsewhere.

These characters love the peanuts we occasionally put out for them......definitely a favorite over the sun flower seeds. When the feeders are empty, they sit up in the high pine branches waiting for us to come out on to the deck. They then start a ruckus by screeching at us, and often dive down and sit on the empty feeder for a few seconds, then fly back up into the trees......."Come on pal, let's get with the peanuts." When I finally toss a few into the feeder the squawking stops, and they swoop down....grab a peanut, then turn it long-ways in their beaks.....finally fly off to bury it in the pine needles. Not sure how they ever find them again, but the squirrels stand watch and will snatch them right after the "hiding."

A note to potential Birders. Bird seed should be withheld for intervals to force these creatures to forage on their own. I grant myself big time slack on this rule in the snowy winter to those who stick around.

At the beginning of every nesting season in early spring, these noisy birds seek those places around the house that they think make a better home for their planned family. We watch them build the nests, and will sometimes put out straw, bits of string and other material for these mating pair of Jays to weave into the small sticks most often used to build the nest.

If we don't pay close attention, and have put up the deck shade umbrellas, they grab them for the new home.

It isn't too many weeks before we hear the peeping of the newly hatched. The parents are not afraid of us sitting below only feet from this exciting event.

I've put up small nesting platforms around the eves of the house to make their house hunting easier.

It looks as if these fledglings might be daring each other to be the first to "FLY"....."Go for it Ernie...I think it looks easy....Mom and Dad do it."

The second most popular species that visits us would be the Humming bird. Hanging out feeders of sugar water will really attract these little guys in a hurry. Certain flowers will also help to bring in the Hummers. We get the Annas, and Rufous Hummers all summer long. These fierce guardians of the feeders seldom will feed together, as it seems one is always trying to drive away the other. Sometimes these speed demons zoom so close to our ears, that a loud hum is heard.

But.....the rarest I have seen in our yard was the very reclusive, shy and secretive Pileated woodpecker. This large woodpecker with the crown of bright red almost escaped my long camera lens. He vamoosed one second after I snapped this photo.

Here are some photos of other birds that often will come calling for a meal, or a drink from our ponds....

These include the funny Mtn. Chikadee, Varied Thrush, Rufous Towee, Grossbeak, Mtn. Quail (& chicks), Canada Goose, Band Tailed Pigeons, Gold Finch, Nuthatch, Flicker & Downey Woodpecker, and others. Largest birds to occasionally visit are the Wild Turkeys. They usually stay high up in the pines, but will sometimes hit the ground in search of bird seed.

When we are saturated with bird-watching in the morning, or early evening, we sometimes will get a BIG

treat when the REAL BIG GUYS pay a call.

THE GENIUS NEST BUILDERS

2011-10-30T10:51:00.000-07:00

The word "CLEVER" doesn't even begin to describe how the Stellar's Jay will seek out the ideal (well for them anyway) nest building site, and then their bird brains will methodically begin to build this birthing platform step by step......just as a building contractor would do.

These intelligent, brilliant blue birds will mate for life. Their habitat is the lower mountain elevations that are heavily forested. They like the conifers, and our back yard is the ideal home for many birds including this crested bright blue Jay. There are two garden ponds for drinking and bathing. Many birds will stand under the small water fall to shake off the dust and mites.....their own private shower.

We have created a "bird Shangrila" on our property.
About the only thing we have not done is put out a sign: "All birds welcome...free rent and utilities...all the food you can eat"

A dozen bird houses for the smaller species like our common Mountain Chikadee. Several platform and perch feeders with most secured from the pesky squirrel by pole baffels. I have built plywood platforms up under our eaves for the Jays.

These bright blue creatures are among our favorite feathered friends. If we are outside, they squawk from the trees imploring us to fill the feeders (preferably peanuts....their favorite)

Lately they seem to head for the large deck umbrellas. The area on top of the wooden canopy spokes appears ideal for them. The last couple of years we donated a smaller umbrella for the 5-6 weeks needed before the fledglings leave the nest. A rent-free home to birth and raise their kids

This year I decided to exercise a landlord's priveledge, and try and force these determined and stubborn birds to build away from the deck. I closed the umbrellas to discourage them.

They ignored the neat wood platform nesting spots, and since the umbrellas were "unavailable," they tried to build on top of our sloped glass box window. Their twigs kept sliding off. I quickly fashioned a cardboard box hoping that they would appreciate my thoughtfullness and move right in.

We watched the couple fly up, hop into

the "condo" I had built for them....they poked among the few twigs I had placed there as a clue to "Build here!" They immediately rejected this "home", and tried once again unsuccessfully to build on top of the slick, sloped glass.

My wife finally said: "That's it, let's donate an umbrella for the short time necessary." Well it did not take more than a few hours for them to build the nest. They had "Stared us down," and prevailed in the end.

NEST CONTSTRUCTION.....Anatomy of the nest

The Jays will first begin with the larger twigs. They get most from the dead Manzanita bushes on the property. They break off the brittle ends, and will fly back to the nest and hand off the twig to the other partner. This bird will begin to position the piece, and the other will fly back for another twig.

The typical egg count will be 2 to 4, so the nest is always built so that the final nest bottom construction is just large enough to hold the eggs.

This process continues, and the nest material will now start to include pine needles, leaves, and other scraps. The materials hunt now turns to the mud available next to the ponds. The Jay will scoop as much mud as she can carry, and begin to work it in to the nest bottom. They will now bring wet pine needles to the nest to work into the mud. This will smooth and strengthen the very bottom of the nest to make it more safe and comfortable for the pair to sit on the eggs, and eventually be a better bed for the hatchlings.

All in all a very fascinating thing to watch! I'm sure the Tree Forest Face will agree.....even with one artificial eye.

Also see blog post "Birds of our Forest," or "Backyard Birds of Mt. Shasta"

*Preparations for Winter in the Mountains

2011-10-23T22:46:00.000-07:00

Well....as I say we have learned to EMBRACE WINTER, but there is a lot of work getting ready.

Oct 23: Shut off garden pond pump and clear debris. Drain potted plants drip system and shut off....30 minutes.

Oct 24th: Living in a thick forest of evergreen conifers, while quite beautiful, can cause big time clean up in late fall before the snow flies. Our gutters are covered, but still have to power wash out the gunk that sneaks into them. Two hours of moving the ladder around the 2 story house.

Oct 25th: Clear all roof pitch drain points of pine needles. One hour needed.

Oct 25th: Disconnect all garden hoses and cover faucet spigots with insulation socks. Fifteen minutes.

Oct 25th: Cover under house vents to keep out freezing air as prevention of possible water pipe breakage. Fifteen minutes.

Oct 26th: Blowing the thick pine needles and Cedar droppings off of our 150 yard driveway. If a plowable snow storm hits before this is done, the Kubota Tractor Snow Blower will seriously clog up. This was a 45 minute task.

Oct 27th: Get 2 cords of firewood moved from the driveway dump spot stacked in the breezeway. Six hours with wheel barrow......always a sore back....check the medicine cabinet for anti-inflamatory meds.

Oct 28th: clean out both chimneys of our wood stove and diesel oil stove.....messy 4 hour job.

Oct 29th: Change oil, check battery,and lubricate the tractor snow blower, and walk-behind blower. Run them for about 5 minutes to check operation. Make sure fresh fuel is put into the tanks that are drained each spring. 1.5 hrs.

Oct 30th: Fill the electric power generator with fuel, check the battery, oil, and run for 10 minutes. We get an average of 2-3 power outages each winter.....mostly falling branches with heavy snow loads. One hour.

Oct 31st: Check fuel levels of Propane gas, and diesel fuel tanks. Fifteen minutes.

Nov 1st: Do a final inventory of the extra groceries, batteries, and portable battery powered lanterns that might be needed if generator fails.

They're Baaaaaaaack!!

2011-10-21T18:46:00.000-07:00

We are speaking of the Linticular Cloud formations. Given the perfect atmospheric conditions...i.e. wind, moisture and cloud presence, the very intriguing Linticular Cloud formations returned today. SEE OUR STORY POST "Linticulars and Loonies" in the blog for more information on these mystical cloud formations that fascinate all viewers.

I looked out my office window tonight at sunset, and BEHOLD, a huge Linticular formation had moved off the mountain top and was catching the last sun of the day.

WOW.....BEAUTIFUL!......The New Age Mystic Mountain Loonies were either ducking for cover, or raising their arms to welcome a Lemurian to our town......(think of the music from Twilight Zone now).

See our other post story on the Linticulars here in our blog, "Linticulars and Loonies"

FREQUENT FLYER WISH LIST!

2011-10-12T10:05:00.000-07:00

As a retired business world frequent flyer, I applaud George Hobica for pointing out some of the unfair airline practices that penalize their best customers. Mr. Hobica is a syndicated travel journalist. Check out his website at http://airfarewatchdog.com

The following was published Oct 20, 2011.

Here are 12 new regulations I'd like to see the Department of Transportation impose.

1. If an airline changes its schedule before you depart on a trip, and such schedule change no longer suits your schedule, the airline must secure you transportation on another airline at your original fare. Merely refunding your original payment and forcing you to buy a much more expensive last minute fare on another airline, which is the common industry response, is not acceptable.

2. If an airline makes a voluntary schedule change (such as changing daily service to a five-times-per-week schedule) and you are forced to spend money on hotels and meals, such as a forced overnight midway in your trip, the airline must pick up the bill for costs you incur (okay, within reason). Similarly, if you can't get to your destination because of a schedule change and your non-refundable hotel room goes empty as a result, the airline must compensate you. After all, if you change your schedule the airline will charge at least $150. Why can they change schedules for free?

3. If an airline cancels a flight and you're traveling on a frequent flyer ticket, any fees associated with that fare must be refunded.

4. If you are due a refund or any kind from an airline, said refund must be paid in full in 30 days.

5. If your flight is delayed or canceled due to anything within the airline's reasonable control, the airline must provide adequate lodging, meals, and transportation. It must also put you on another airline's flight if that flight will get you to your destination sooner than your original airline's next flight out. (Basically, a return to the pre-deregulation Rule 240.)

6. The Department of Transportation has ruled that airlines must now refund your checked bag fees if it loses your luggage, but I want them to refund passengers even if the bag is delayed for more than an hour. Refunds should be easy to apply for, and paid in cash, not vouchers.

7. Here's one that really makes me mad: If an airline flies a route nonstop it should be prohibited from substituting a connecting flight. I hear too many stories of passengers being notified months before takeoff that even though the airline still flies a route nonstop on a wide-body jet they're now connecting on regional jets through a hub airport. When you buy a steak at a restaurant the management can't substitute hamburger.

8. Here's another one from my in-box. If a passenger buys a non-refundable ticket, and said passenger dies, passenger's fare must be refunded in full within 30 days, and all traveling companions must also have their fares refunded. Now, the airline industry is going to say, "Yeah, well if you buy a ticket to a rock concert and you die, you don't get a refund either," but come on, you can resell the rock concert ticket or give it to someone else; not so with an airline seat.

9. Airlines are required to publish on-time statistics for their flights, allowing passengers to avoid chronically late flights. But how about publishing seat pitch (i.e., legroom) data, so that consumers can avoid airlines that jam too many seats into their planes? Or maybe there should be mandated minimum amount of legroom.

10. Airlines should be required to install one or two rows in the economy section with extra-wide seats (two-by-two rather than the typical three-by-three configuration) to accommodate "passengers of size." This will prevent other passengers from being squished if seated next to extra-wide seatmates.

11. If a flight is delayed owing to any cause reasonably within the airline's control (such as a computer malfunction or poorly maintained equipment), then they must pay compensation. After all, it seems to work in Europe where passengers are entitled to as much as 600 euros if a long-haul flight is severely delayed.

12. Any finally, how about requiring airlines to refund any taxes paid on a non-refundable ticket if the passenger cancels the flight. If you buy something at Sears and return it, does Sears keep the sales tax?

George Hobica is a syndicated travel journalist and founder of the low-airfare listing site Airfarewatchdog.com.